Yakuza
by VioTanequil
Summary: Yakuza. The word was supposed to strike fear into the everyday Japanese's heart. Keyword: supposed. Ise Nanao blinked. This was completely not what she had expected. AU fic. Pairings to be decided. Rated T for language.
1. Menacing Puppies

Ise Nanao stood outside the door, pausing for a moment, her hand just inches from the doorknob. Sometimes, and now was one of these times, she wondered whether she had made the right decision in joining them in the first place. But nah, the job was rather rewarding, and the pay was good. In her sector, there was minimal violence.

Things seemed to be carried out differently here, back in Japan. Everything seemed more threatening, more dangerous, more violent, as compared to the relatively peaceful overseas branch, where networking and dabbling in political affairs were more prominent. They suited her better than violence did. She sighed softly.

"You've come so far, it's a shame to stop here, really. Besides, Kyouraku-san doesn't bite." Her head whirled around as she found herself face to face with a grinning dark-skinned woman leaning casually against the wall. She knew who this was instantly, recognizing the face from the files. "Shi-Shihouin-sama!" She stooped into a deep bow.

"You're from the overseas branch, right?"

"H-Hai."

"Hm… Oh! So you're the one…" The grin on her face turned slightly sly. "This means that I'll finally get the correct share of the spoils, eh?"

"Pardon?"

"Did no one tell you why you were being transferred here of all places?" A dark hand scratched at purple hair. "No? Hm… Curious."

"Why am I being transferred here, Shihouin-sama?"

"Oh, don't Shihouin-sama me, dear. It's Yoruichi-san. Or Yoruichi, since we're practically family anyway. Everyone here is." She winked. "And as for why you're being transferred here, how about you go in and find out, eh? Everyone has been awaiting your arrival."

At that, Nanao blanched. "Pardon me, Yoruichi-san… What exactly do you mean when you say 'everyone'?"

A sly grin. "Oh, you'll see, you'll see."

Just then, a voice rang out from the crack of the door. "Oi, oi, Yoruichi-san! Don't ya keep the new kid out there to yerself for too long! Time's a-wasting!"

"That's your cue then, Ise-san." Turning back to the door, she hollered, "Keep your head on, Ichimaru!"

"There ya go. I'll be right behind you, so don't you worry, 'kay?" She lowered her voice down to a whisper. "Some of them look menacing, but really, they're all puppies inside."

Nanao merely blinked, still stunned. Puppies? Menacing? What? She had a bad feeling about this. She took a step forward and bumped into the door. A chuckle erupted somewhere behind her.

"You have to open the door, dearie. It doesn't open itself."

Blushing, she turned the doorknob and entered the room.

It was completely different from what she had expected. For one, the room was neither dimly lit nor was it empty of any furniture save for a throne right at the end. Sure, the room was large, but with the multitude of furniture around, it did not seem that way.

Sofas were arranged in a circle, a large round table situated in the middle. Various men, and women were lounged in the seats, and she could tell that they had been chatting away just before she had opened the door.

"Ise Nanao, I presume?" She turned politely in that direction, where a man with long white hair tied back in a ponytail sat.

He inclined his head as he stood up. "Ukitake Jyuushiro, Managing Director." Gesturing to the others, he continued.

"Ichimaru Gin. Publicity Manager."

"Pleased ta meet ya, Ise-san." He winked, though how he managed it when his eyes were already mostly closed from the beginning, Nanao did not know.

"Kira Izuru, under Ichimaru-san." A slight bow from the blond seated to Ichimaru's right.

"Hitsugaya Toshiro. Events Coordinator." A polite nod from a white haired teal eyed teenager.

"Matsumoto Rangiku, under Shiro-chan." The buxom strawberry blonde winked at Nanao.

"MATSUMOTO!" Laughter erupted as the icicle glared at his subordinate. Nanao had to admit, the fact that the teenager was holding such a senior position was rather intimidating.

"Sumimasen, Hitsugaya-kun." Sniggers, but a smiling Ukitake moved on.

"Zaraki Kenpachi. Recruitment." A grunt. This would be the person in charge of screening the thugs, she assumed. His large build and the menacing look in his eye did it.

"Madarame Ikkaku, under Zaraki."

"Pachinko head!" A high-pitched squeal which had a couple of the men at the circle blanch slightly as the room turned its collective head to where a small pink-haired girl had poked her head out from behind the gigantic chair upon which Zaraki was sitting.

"Yachiru. 'S past yer bedtime." He frowned as he looked at the girl who immediately pouted, crossing little arms in front of her chest.

"Buuut… Ken-chan! I wanna see the new…"

"Excuse us please." The giant led the little girl out of the room, and Nanao mentally reminded herself to take another look at the man. First impressions and such.

"Urahara Kisuke. Research and Development Office." It seemed that no one else had been surprised by the two leaving the room, as Ukitake moved on. A wide grin and a cheery wave came from the blond guy next to Zaraki-san.

"Kurotsuchi Mayuri, under Urahara-san." This one stood out with dark blue hair and golden eyes, a slight nod given in her direction.

"Unohana Retsu. Welfare Coordinator." She gave Nanao a slight smile.

"Kotetsu Isane, under Unohana-san." An inclination of her head.

"Abarai Renji, Junior Law Consultant." She blinked at the shock of red hair and the presence of tribal tattoos. She had expected something like 'Extortion', maybe?

She bowed low, seeing a break in the circle of chairs, and chuckles ensued all around. "Why tha' bow?" Ribbed the Publicity Manager, "We're all equals here." Nanao blinked.

"Ano, Ichimaru-san… Equals?"

"You didn' tell her, Yoruichi-san? Ooh. Nassty." Ichimaru's ever present grin grew wider.

"She didn't because I'm supposed to, Gin." A voice cut in from a large chair whose back was facing her.

"Sumimasen, Kyouraku-sempai. Didn' know tha job opening was that big."

"Shut it, Ichimaru."

"Aye, aye, keep yer head on, Mayuri-san. Can't a man talk around here?" His grin only grew wider.

The pink lump in the corner turned around on the only swivel chair in the room, a lazy smile on his face.

"Kyouraku Shunsui. Welcome back to Japan, Ise Nanao, General Secretary."

"Whoa. Dude… A nice promotion, tha' is. From tha' secretary of ole' Mori to overall-in-charge of tha' books. Nice one, Ise-san." She bowed slightly, to a chorus of tittering once more. "Don' stand on ceremony, ya? We're just people here. Ain't got no guns or nothing."

"Speak for yourself, Ichimaru. We all know that Madarame's armed to the damned teeth. And knowing you, you're probably armed too. Not guns, maybe, but that wakizashi of yours?"

"So we're done for the day?" It was Yoruichi who spoke up, cutting in and breaking the tension before it even built up.

"Nah. Kuchiki called. He'll be late. Something about family matters. And you know without him, we can't do the damn presentation to the newbies. No one does the 'step out of line and we'll kill you' thing like he does. It's the 'I can bite your head off without even blinking and then go on to kill your family in cold blood' thing. Yeah sure, Kenpachi's scary, but we're a thug society, so thugs aren't scary, eh? He's the only one who can do it, so we're stuck when we're without the guy."

There was a pause. "Looks like we'll be staying on for dinner. Oi, Ran-san… Who's turn is it to cook?"

"I'll cook as long as Kuchiki pays for it."

"He always pays."

"Good point. I'll get right to it." The blond man grinned at them, before exiting the room in the adjoining one, which Nanao assumed was the kitchen.

"It better not be vegetarian this time, Kisuke, or I'm tellin' ya, I won't eat the shit." Oh. Zaraki-san was back.

This was the almighty gang of head honchos she had heard about? The group of men and women which had all the grunts shivering at the mere mentioning of their names? Nanao stood there, a little stunned. Scratch that. More than a little stunned. After all those gruesome rumors she had heard, these were the leaders? Very funny. Now, where was the real bunch?


	2. Actors

The dinner had been a rather pleasant meal of mostly vegetables, stir-fried, boiled, and blanched in a variety of different manners. There was one large meat dish though, which had been rather cleverly placed in front Zaraki-san and Madarame-san. Poking apprehensively at one of the dishes when she noticed that no one had touched that yet, she asked nervously. "Ano, Urahara-san?" When he turned laughing eyes to her, a wide goofy grin on his face, she gulped slightly before continuing, well aware of the many eyes on her. "What's in this dish?"

Uproar. "Oh no, trust me, Ise-san. You don't want to know."

"And even if you know, don't trust the guy. He might say it's broccoli, but it's never _only_ broccoli."

"Kisuke loves his jokes." Ukitake grinned fatherly at the scientist in question.

"Ha ha. Very funny. Well, we don't. I still don't see why we can't make someone else cook."

"Because he's the one who organized the kitchen and no one else knows where the food is?" Mayuri-san, this time.

"And also because well, no one else knows how to cook."

"Ya. Remember what ya did the other time, Abarai?"

"Shut it, Ikkaku! Who was it that _ate_ the thing?"

At her right side, Matsumoto leant over, whispering. "Urahara-san does this all the time. He has the same spread of food, except that he changes one dish. No one tries that one dish, not after what happened to Ikkaku the other time." There was a suppressed giggle.

"Ano, Matsumoto-san… Doesn't that mean that you will run out of dishes to eat?"

"Which is why Kuchiki buys back most of the time." She grinned. "That guy knows how to make the guys happy with food, and since it's mostly his fault that we eat dinner together, it works well." There was a thoughtful pause. "Not to mention the guy's high-class enough to know where the good food is."

The group lapsed back into contented silence. Alas, it was not for long.

"Nandayo?!" Ichimaru's ever-present smile faltered, his eyes flying open in shock as he glared at Urahara.

"Ichimaru-san? Is there a problem?" Everyone's eyes flew to Urahara, who had calmly picked up a piece of vegetable from the plate that Nanao had just poked at with her chopsticks. He was chewing on the vegetable, a devious look in his eyes, a smirk coming to his face.

"You changed two dishes this time!" Hitsugaya-kun's eyes narrowed as he pointed an accusing finger at Urahara, who beamed and shook his head. Everyone else looked down at their plates, gulping.

"I only changed one." His eyes strayed to the meat dish, a secretive smirk on his face. All of a sudden, the pot of stew looked particularly menacing. Those who had eaten the meat, namely Ikkaku, Renji and some of the other guys blanched. They reached for their drinks, taking large gulps. If it were possible, the grin on Urahara-san's face grew wider. There was a snigger.

"You did something to the drinks." A voice stated from the doorway.

"Ah, Kuchiki-san! You're back! Perfect! We can start soon."

"Don't try and change the subject, Kisuke."

The blond scientist rubbed at the back of his hair nervously, a sheepish grin on his face. "You got me."

"You copied my idea."

Absolute silence. A strangled gasp from Yoruichi. "W-What?!"

"You have already forgotten the time we played poker, Yoruichi?"

"That was you?!" A pause. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to clean the red stains out of the floor? Or how much water we all drank that night? You are so dead." Her eyes narrowed, glaring at him. Everyone else except Nanao could see that this was merely good-natured ribbing.

"Oh really? Pray tell, then. Who is going to ensure that the money that pays for the laundry services stays within the organization? Who will make sure that the money can be spent? You get the money, Demon Cat. I make sure we keep the money. We just need someone to count the money."

"Shut it and sit down, Byakuya. Some of us want to eat." Ichimaru dragged a chair out from seemingly nowhere.

"You're still hungry, Gin?"

"Nah. But you guys are." The grin widened.

Nanao was stunned. Kuchiki Byakuya? That lawyer guy? CEO of Kuchiki Corporation? That person that turned up for nearly every networking event that was held in Japan? That person was a member of the yakuza? And such a high-level member? She was really going to have to rethink her outlook on the organization.

"Ah, pardon me. I have already eaten. I will go set up the presentation." He inclined his head slightly to Kyouraku-san and Ukitake-san, before turning to leave the room.

"Hmph. Too good to eat with us?"

"Too full to eat a second dinner, Kurotsuchi." He glowered at Mayuri-san before leaving.

"Cheh. Pretty boy. Why do we keep him around anyway?" No one bothered to answer the question, instead digging into the food. Nanao on the other hand, was confused. Drinks were not a dish, and with the sort of person that Urahara-san seemed to be, that would mean that he had intentionally misled them.

"You're not eating, Ise-san?" Said scientist smirked slyly in her direction. "Anything wrong with the food?"

Not breaking eye contact, she reached out with her chopsticks and picked a piece of leafy vegetable from the plate he had taken his food from. She would not back down that easily. Besides, she had noticed that he had not taken food from a few plates and as such, those were the ones that she knew to avoid. Photographic memory did help.

He smiled at her, a true smile now. They had come to something similar to an understanding, it seemed. The rest of the table, excluding Ichimaru-san who was not eating, merely sitting back and enjoying himself, was rather confused. And for those who knew Urahara well, they were rather afraid. Everyone stopped eating, and Urahara pouted.

"Not a word, Kisuke. Now, tell us, which dish did you change?" He pointed morosely at the half-finished plate of carrots, half-sulking and half-looking very pleased with himself.

"And what did you add to it?" Ikkaku's voice was low and dangerous.

"Not tellin' ya. But don't ya worry. It's quite harmless." He grinned happily, clapping hands together. "I daresay that Kuchiki-san is ready, and that Hisagi and the newbies have been waiting long enough, no? It's time for us to go for the presentation."

"We'll get ya for this, Kisuke! Mark my words!"

"That's what you said the last time, Abarai-kun."

"Yeah well, I'll do it this time!"

"That's also what you said last week, Madarame-san."

No one was hungry, and slowly, they filed into the next room, where they could hear the noises from outside the door which indicated the presence of the newbies.

A paper was passed around the group, on which was scrawled a rather untidy message. _Whose turn is it to throw a tantrum this time? It was Zaraki and Ikkaku last month, and Ichimaru and Hitsugaya the month before that._

_It's mine. And Ukitake-sempai's._ The paper was whisked away, a silver pen brought out, an elegant cursive script appearing on the slip.

The room's occupants looked silently from the white-haired man to the sharply dressed one. They winked at each other, Kuchiki gesturing for Ukitake to begin.

"OH _REALLY_?! AND YOU WERE INTENDING TO TELL ME _WHEN_?" He grabbed a piece of metal and threw it in the opposite direction of Kuchiki-san, allowing it to contact violently with the door behind him. There was a loud clunk, and Nanao noted that the sounds outside the door had stopped abruptly.

"Yesterday." His voice was raised to a volume much higher than normal, tense with fake anger. Nanao was sure that it could be heard from outside. All around the two actors, the various men and women were doing their best not to laugh. Ichimaru was brandishing a video camera from a position that neither man could see.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE JUST GOT CONNED OUT _OF FIVE HUNDRED THOUSAND US DOLLARS?_ WHY WE EVEN KEEP _YOU_ AROUND I DON'T _KNOW_!" Ukitake slammed a hand on the table, standing up and pushing his chair back.

"My many apologies, Ukitake-sempai." Kuchiki-san was gritting his teeth, though whether it was because he was trying not to laugh or whether he was truly angry Nanao did not know. This was a splendid performance.

"DON'T APOLOGIZE! JUST GET THE DAMN MONEY BACK!"

"At once, Ukitake-sempai." He turned slightly, shuffling at the floor, walking towards the door with deliberately loud footsteps. She could almost feel the threatening aura surrounding the two men spread, and she was very sure that the new intake would be shivering on the other side. Pure brilliance.

"NOT _NOW_, YOU FOOLISH IDIOT! THE NEW INTAKE IS WAITING SOMEWHERE OUTSIDE THAT DAMN DOOR FOR YOUR DAMN _PRESENTATION_! YOU BETTER DO A _DAMN_ _GOOD_ _JOB_, OR YOU CAN SAY GOODBYE TO YOUR _LOUSY_ HEAD!" He lapsed into coughs, and everyone looked concernedly at him. Until he waved a hand and brandished a white handkerchief in front of their faces. The atmosphere relaxed suddenly.

"Yes, Sempai." Kuchiki Byakuya sat back down, a satisfied smirk on his face before it was quickly wiped off in favor of his calm placid look.

Just then, a piece of paper found its way into her hands. _Now's your cue. Open the door, Nanao-san. Kick all the crying ones out._

She nodded to the two of them, rising from her seat. The door was easy enough to open, swinging inwards silently. The tall man behind the door, spiky hair, '69' tattoo and scratches on his face started back at her, an eyebrow raised in question. Nodding politely to him, she turned to survey the small bunch. They all looked rather alright to her. A couple of wimpy looking ones, but really, as long as they did not try to back out, the organization would be fine.

She stepped aside, allowing them to enter and stand around the room, behind the chairs of the top few, who had vacated the room. She supposed that they were hiding in the kitchen, pressing their ears against the door and listening. Closing the door behind her, she turned to the man outside. "Ise Nanao." Shaking her hand, he nodded. "Hisagi Shuuhei, Law Consultant."

Behind them, somehow concealed behind a screen but such that his shadow was visible (Nanao suspected that it had something to do with the mirrors at the side.) Byakuya cleared his throat menacingly. "Before you begin your tenure within the organization, there are a few key things to take note of."

There was silence as he paused, head tilted as he seemingly surveyed the group.

"Or rather, only one thing. If you have a half a brain, you would know that this is the key to everything." It was a tone similar to the one that Nanao used for Very-Stupid-People. Except that it was about five times colder, and twice as scary. She was impressed. Quite impressed.

A gunshot rang out, and a hole appeared in the screen and in the wall above the door.

The girl nearest to the door blanched. The room of newbies jumped. Nanao almost felt pity for the newbies. Almost.

"Loyalty."

He swept elegantly around the screen, and as Nanao cast a glance over to Hisagi, she saw that the man was trying his darndest not to laugh. She shuffled slowly over, so slowly that no one else noticed, not even Hisagi until she was next to him. "What's so funny?" She whispered.

His eyes widened slightly. "You're new?" She nodded, waiting his response. "Kuchiki-sempai has the tendency to exaggerate. And he's best at being melodramatic. Every month he gets better. But this," He gestured to the tall and menacing figure towering over a scared teenager with too many earrings.

"This takes the cake. Even Ichimaru-san can't do this. If the newbies aren't scared enough, I'll eat my choker."


	3. Old New

The frightened new recruits were shuffled out of the room, and the top few burst out of the kitchen door. Ichimaru's eyes were invisible, the lanky man slamming fists into the nearest couch as he howled with laughter. Renji loomed over Ikkaku, or attempted to at least, in an imitation of the 'loyalty' speech. Yoruichi was rolling around on the ground, Ukitake chuckled merrily, and even Kurotsuchi sniggered. Urahara, on the other hand, was happily hefting a video camera.

"Cheers, Bya-kun!"

The man merely narrowed his eyes, his hand straying to a pocket. A pocket which held the gun he had just fired. "Yare, yare, Kuchiki-san. No need to get angry here." The lump of pink that was the overall in charge spoke up, a wide grin on his face.

"My apologies, sempai. I have work to do." With a short bow, he left the room abruptly.

"Damn… He's in a bad mood today?" Ichimaru put a finger to his lower lip, pausing thoughtfully as he peered around the doorframe, a slight frown on his face.

"Aah, he's always in a bad mood. It's in the job description, you know?" Renji grinned, striking a pose. "Prosecutor Kuchiki Byakuya! Here 'ta freeze the courtroom with my coldness! And while I'm at it, I'll throw a silent tantrum, but ya can't get me fer it cos it's silent! Hah!"

"Abarai. The corridor conducts sound quite well, would you not agree?" Sniggers in the room, as Renji's face paled. Apparently, he had not realised that.

"M-M-My many apologies, sir."

"There is a stack of paperwork on my desk with your name on it, Renji. I wonder why." Renji groaned audibly, slouching back into a chair, a hand on his forehead. "Damnit. Why's Iceman my in-charge again?"

No one bothered to answer his question, instead settling themselves down in the chairs. They went through a few basic happenings, commenting on the increasing threat, the increasing strictness of the system, the difficulties they encountered in the job.

"Maa, it's late, Kyouraku-san." Ichimaru stretched, yawning widely as he rubbed at his eyes, interrupting Mayuri halfway. "If there's nothin' else important than I'm goin' off now. I need ma beauty sleep to pull off the job well, ya? Call me if ya need anything." He pushed his chair aside, bowing to Kyouraku-san, before leaving the rooming, stretching as he went.

Mayuri spluttered indignantly, before noticing that half the room seemed to be in a state of exhaustion. Scowling, he nodded to the in-charge before closing his folder. "Time to call it a day, then…"

One by one, they filed out of the room. She frowned slightly, realizing that while the others had places to stay, simply because they had been in Japan since forever, she was new to the area, having been away for about seven years. As such, she did not have a house anymore. The room in France no longer belonged to her, after having sold it off for a nice price. The property market was doing rather well after all.

"Ano, Kyouraku-sempai, where will I be staying? I only returned from France this afternoon, and as a result, did not have sufficient time to prepare for any long-term accommodation."

"You'll be boarding with me!" A wide grin as Matsumoto leapt over, appearing at her side. "I've been dying for a roommate, and I think you're just perfect! She can, right, Kyouraku-san?"

He nodded, watching amusedly as bubbly Matsumoto steered Ise-san out the door.

* * *

Things were getting difficult; the situation with Aizen and Las Noches was getting dangerous. The foreign branch had been shut down and brought back because of this threat, because it was getting much too dangerous to operate so far away from home. They had tolerated Sousuke-kun leaving to form his own operation. They had even helped him out a little along the way. None of them had expected him to turn hostile. Not a single one of them.

Shunsui exchanged glances with the only remaining person in the room, his closest friend Jyuushiro. "What are we going to do, Jyuu?" He reached behind him and tugged out a bottle of sake, a cup already in his other hand. Pouring himself a serving, he took a sip, peering at Ukitake over the rim.

"We'll sit around and wait. If there's a need, we can always call upon Hirako and Kurosaki. The Ishidas and Shibas, maybe."

"Hm… But didn't Hirako go straight the other time? He packed up the deals, closed everything down, and went legal. And Kurosaki… Kurosaki's saddled down with kids. He might not want to come back to this. And Ishida? Forget it. That guy's 'import-export'. He doesn't do the same thing as we do. He's never liked us anyway. The Shibas, probably not as well. We've done enough damage involving them in things, if you remember. Kuukaku lost her right arm, or was it her left? Can't remember. All I do remember is the time when Kaien blew up in our faces. And he's already involved. Anyway, what makes you think they'll want to join us?"

The white haired man shrugged. "Sousuke-kun always had his eyes on the big things. Whatever it is that he is planning… It's us or him, really. There's no grounds for neutrality here. None of us are legal enough to side with the cops. Not even Hirako. Delve too deep, and they'll find out what he's done. He won't dare. The Ishidas, well, Aizen probably won't touch them. They are scary enough in their own right. Ever seen Ryuuken blow up?" They chuckled at the memory.

"How many favors do you have? Think you could call some of them in? This is going to be big, and I'm sure you know it. It's probably an all out war."

"That's about it. Hang on, Shunsui. Do you think… Genryuusai-sensei? And maybe some of the old gang. I did help Komamura-kun the other time, so that means that Tetsuzaemon would be with us as well. Yoruichi probably has a fair few contacts too."

"Yama-jii wouldn't agree. You know the old pacifist. I tell you, Jyuu, if he knew that half his kendo class turned out the way we did, he'd throw a huge fit. Something about 'going against the justice of the world' or something like that. He and his obsession with siding with the police. Now, if only there was a way to keep the damn police out of this. Stupid nosy assholes, sticking their noses where they don't need to. We always repair the damage anyway. It's not as like they could just close us down if they got us. We more or less control the economy."

"We could get Bya-kun to bribe them or something. He's got connections all over the place. Or we could fix it up quickly. Do everything nicely, quickly, such that no one notices. Sousuke knows that he needs the police on his side to win, because Las Noches isn't big enough. And at the same time, he's more illegal than we are. He's more dangerous than we are. He's biding his time right now, but I don't know what he's planning."

"Sousuke-kun is not too much of a threat to us now, simply because we really don't know what he can do. He's venturing into dangerous ground there, trying to juggle all those things at once. Drugs, that's very understandable. All the rookies want to deal in that. It's the guns that I don't understand. It is very possible to profit from the simpler things, import-export like us. And besides, our purpose is to ultimately benefit the people. Guns… I don't see how he's helping anyone. Why he wants to go hang a noose around his own neck I don't know."

"Where is he getting the funding from anyway? For us, it's obvious. It's Kuchiki. He goes, the money goes. Luckily for us, he doesn't seem inclined to leave anytime soon. But for Aizen? I don't get it. Ever since he shut himself off that time, we don't know anything. Ichimaru says that no one knows. He's asked around."

"You know, Shun, I have a feeling that we're missing something. Something very important."

"Me too."

* * *

"We're here!" A happy exclamation as they stopped outside a very similar door, a hastily written 'Matsumoto' on a small plaque hung from it. "Ah, we'll have to change that soon." She grinned, unhooking it from the door, placing it on top of one of Nanao's luggage bags that she was currently pulling.

The card was swiped, a finger placed on the identification pad for scanning as she waited. "Never hurts to be slightly paranoid, that's Kurotsuchi's motto, and really, the guy would have installed an eyeball scanner if he thought he could get away with it. Personally, I think that if anyone got into the compound, they'd have beaten more sophisticated things than fingerprints. But whatever… That guy's just weird. Aha!"

She beamed as the light flashed green, and there was a slight click. Turning the doorknob, she entered, holding the door open for Nanao and her luggage. Surprisingly, the corridor into the room was wide, not narrow as most would expect. The bathroom was not the first room they met, and the bed was not visible from the doorway. This was no ordinary dorm room then.

"C'mon! This way! You need to unpack your stuff. I'll give you a little tour later." Matsumoto's voice echoed happily from further down the corridor. Nanao on the other hand, was stunned by the view. The curtains had been drawn back, and from the tenth floor, the view was amazing. The entire wall was glass, only a frame where there was a window was visible.

The night sky was brilliant. And it felt so good to be home again. France had seemed so foreign, she had never truly immersed herself in the culture there, had only stuck to the same few comrades, to the same cuisines. Being home felt great. Matsumoto grinned a knowing smile, letting her stare out the window. "Nice view, eh? It's always good to be back in Japan."

Nanao turned to her curiously. "You were stationed elsewhere previously?" She had assumed that France was the only outpost to be pulled back, probably since they had not had any major achievements in the three years she had been there. She voiced that aloud.

Matsumoto grinned and nodded. "I studied Business Management in the US, and was intending on setting up a small business there, when Gin called saying that there was a job opening back home. Japan's always been my home, so I grabbed at the chance and came back, only to be posted back to the US to coordinate efforts there. Didn't last long though. What with the Aizen thing and all. The US branch was the first to be shut down. I returned last year."

"Oh." For her, the four years before her entrance to the world of yakuza had been her university years, spent in Accountancy. She did not really regret taking up the lucrative job offer, as she had not really done much anyway. Sitting around, sorting things, organizing things, the money had been easy.

"Let's get you settled down, eh? It's going to be a long week. The whole of Europe's due to be in by Friday. That's Kaien from Germany, Nemu from the UK and Sentarou from Spain. You met Hisagi-san already, right?"

She nodded. "He was pulled back from Italy, Izuru from Portugal, Isane and Kiyone from Russia. We don't have any contacts in South America, the Middle East, or Africa. Asia's due in next week. That'll be Soi Fong from China, Omaeda from Korea, Hanatarou from Singapore and Tatsufusa from Thailand."

Nanao blinked, slightly stunned. She had not expected the pull back to be so large such that nearly everyone was returning. And secondly, she had not known that the organization had been so large. China? Portugal? Spain? So many countries? "Ise-san, do you intend to stand there all night?" There was a teasing note in Matsumoto's voice.

"My apologies, Matsumoto-san."

"Rangiku." Seeing the confused look on Nanao's face, she grinned. "Call me Rangiku, Nanao. There's no need to be so formal. We're going to be dorm mates after all, right?" Not waiting for Nanao to respond, her grin broadened. "Let's get you unpacked!"

Happily, she lugged Nanao's luggage into the corridor. There were two rooms along the corridor, well, four if one wanted to be particular, including the living room and the kitchen, but there were two bedrooms, the doors facing one another. One had a similarly scrawled 'Rangiku' on the door, and looked particularly messy, while the other was clean, and completely free of any clutter. Whistling a tune, Rangiku placed Nanao's luggage on the floor, unzipping it and hanging up her clothes in the wardrobe.

"M-Rangiku-san, what's the organization like?" She shifted the table lamp slightly, looking at the strawberry blonde sitting cross-legged on the floor, happily sorting through her stuff.

"We're more mercenary than anything, really. We deal mostly in fraud, blackmail, and a little political stuff. Of course, there's the smuggling as well, but that's really minimal. We mostly do stuff that we're paid to do. Most of the time its really little things. Get papers passed and approved a little faster than usual, with a small fee, of course. Then there's the larger ones, the bigger clients who get us to get stuff for them. All requests are sorted through the main office before work is delegated. Kyouraku-san and the higher-ups decide what passes through and what doesn't. And of course, occasionally we go out and do stuff on our own." She grinned wickedly.

"Nothing too bad though. It's all quite harmless. We don't normally go around beating stuff up. It's the heists that we're famous for. The last time, that was just pure brilliance. I'm sure you heard of it? That one with the huge distraction courtesy of Zaraki and his men while we got into the trade secrets? Very thrilling." A wink.

"As for how we're organized, well, there's the few groups that you were introduced to, earlier on in the afternoon. Those, and two more offices. Liaison, headed by one Kuchiki Byakuya, and Main, directly under Kyouraku-san.

Main, as the name implies, is Headquarters. Everything goes through Main. You're probably in Main, because as far as I know, the job of a General Secretary is in Main." She grinned. "I heard that Kyouraku-san's fun to work with."

"Investigations is under Yoruichi-san. They do all the scouting, all the basic jobs to prepare for the bigger jobs, they clean up the messes we might leave behind, they get rid of the people that we need killed.

Publicity, or well, that's what Gin likes to call it, it's more like Information and Propaganda, really. Those guys over there, well, they gather information, they spread information, the information we want the world to know.. No one knows who's really in it except Gin." She shrugged. "But it's not really of our concern, and it's probably better that way."

"Welfare is just a nice name for healthcare, for the doctors. We can't send our people to the hospitals out there, so that's what Unohana and her crew are for. They get the largest budget after Kuchiki to purchase all the equipment they need.

Liaison is the true publicity. Kuchiki goes out there, gains contacts, spreads messages amongst the high-class, gains support for his firm. His firm supports the organization. His firm _is_ the backbone of the organization, really. It's just a nice cover for us. He processes all the legal work, does all the records, makes sure that the money we have can be kept. Liaison does all the legal processing."

"Events Management is really Planning. Toshiro and I, what we do is that we come up with the rough structure for things. We do the basic planning and organizing for everything, before it goes to Main. We help set down the framework, help think up of stuff. We're really just a subset of Main, the ideas department."

"Recruitment is the most straightforward. Contrary to popular belief, we don't have an army large enough to rival that of the Japanese Army. We just have a small, tight-knit group. Zaraki provides all the firepower, all the punch that we need when we need it. We're mostly a thinking plotting group, this whole organization, so there isn't such a focus on fighting."

"Research and Development is the most 'legal' portion of our enterprises. They spend the whole day locked up in the labs, thinking of ways to improve things, to improve products so that we can sell them at a much higher price than we bought them for. They also improve the weapons, and think of ways to outsmart the cops so that we're not caught. They're the Prevention, and Liaison is the Cure, to get us out of trouble when we do get caught, if we get caught."

"And we're not really the bad guys that we may seem. We do have a few programs to help out those who no one else helps."

She hung up the last set of trousers. "There. All done." Grinning, her face took on a serious look as she peered out the window, staring silently at the bright lights of the cityscape.

"You might want to get some sleep, Nanao. The next few days are going to be interesting."


	4. Lunch Almost

She was introduced to her office the next day. Conveniently located two blocks away, the company of Kyouraku Industries was for the most part, a perfectly legal operation. For the most part, that was. They were a shipping company, handling goods, mostly legal goods. However, there was an entire building devoted to the organization. The other organization. The one which she had been in for the past four years. Kyouraku Industries was moderately large, and conveniently enough, had connections all over the place.

She was rather surprised at the lack of anything fancy in the organization. So far, the people, all of them, seemed like decent peace loving people. Which was very different from what she had expected, really. The lift bell went, and she stepped out of the lift to the eighth floor. The office was a rather nondescript place, white walls, small water feature directly facing the lift, wide corridor, tiled floor. Rather normal place, this.

Looking around for signs of any sort, she realised that there were no signs. Except for female toilet to your left and male toilet to your right, there was completely no indication as to where she was supposed to go. She was lost. Ise Nanao, probably the most organized person that Kyouraku Industries had ever known, was lost. Yes. Lost. She was supposed to report to her office at eight thirty, but she had no idea where her office was.

She looked around the rather empty place for any recognizable person to talk to. No one. And not only was there no one she recognized, there was no one. The office was silent. Strangely silent. This was odd. And kind of eerie too, but she supposed it was just because of the emptiness. Standing there in the middle of nowhere, she frowned. This was not a good start. It was not good to be late on the first day of work. Crappity crap crap.

A hand rested on her shoulder, and she started, turning around shocked, to come face to face with the boss and his best friend, the latter who grinned happily and waved, before continuing upwards in the lift. "Sumimasen, Kyouraku-senpai, I could not find my way to the office." Great, just great. What a wonderful way to start the new day. She was surprised to hear him laugh, a loud booming laugh that echoed around the previously silent room.

Saying nothing more, he steered her down the corridor, all the way to the end. Gesturing around the rather big room, he grinned. "This is your office, Nanao-chan; you'll be working here, handling all the paperwork and stuff that needs processing. Occasionally, you'll be called out for action, but that's only after we assess your abilities." Not allowing her to butt in, he continued happily. "We'll be having trials for the lower ranks in a few days, and we'll be testing your abilities then, together with all the new arrivals, 'kay?"

She blanched. Looking concernedly at her, he frowned, confused. "A-Ano, abilities, Kyouraku-senpai?"

"Why of course, Nanao-chan. We're a primarily fighting society, no?" He paused thoughtfully. "Would you prefer to not attend the assessment? It can be arranged." Another pause. "But that would just be boring for you, you know? A completely desk job is boring." He flounced around dramatically, pausing to grin up at her.

Oh no. This was not what she had signed up for. She had signed up for the desk job and pay. Not the violence. She was not a violent person. Fighting was not part of her nature at all. She could fight, but not very well. Probably nowhere near the standards of the others. There was a tanto which she kept hidden up her sleeve at all times, but it was only for self-defense. She was not very good at using it, because she hardly used it. As for guns, well, she had never touched one in her life. Nope.

Screwed. Royally screwed.

* * *

In the busyness of the next few hours, where she found out that the only thing stopping the complete breakdown of communications was her, it was absolute chaos. (And as such, due to this chaos, she happily forgot about the assessment.) Complete utter madness. Missives, messages, emails, post-its on reports, reports, summaries, accounting… Everything came to her, and she sorted, categorized, shuffled. It was tiring, and it was kind of brain numbing. She wondered vaguely why she was doing it, until Matsumoto popped a cheery head into her room three hours after the working day had begun.

"Hey, Nanao! Toshiro and I…" She began, only to be cut off sharply by the teenager lounging against the wall of the corridor.

"It's Hitsugaya-senpai, or just Hitsugaya. Not Toshiro."

A giggle, as she flapped her hand. "Maa, you're so stuck up." Turning back to Nanao, a grin reappeared on her face. "Whatcha still doing here, Nanao? It's lunchtime!" Reaching forward, she dragged the dazed General Secretary out of her office and into the lift, to join a small crowd also leaving their offices for lunch.

"Hey, Nanao!"

"Yo, Nanao-san!"

"How's it going, Ise-san?"

She blinked. If she lied and said that she was claustrophobic, would Matsumoto let her take the stairs down instead? Making her decision a little too late, the lift door slid shut and Nanao found herself in a space that was obviously designed with less than twenty people in mind filled with twenty five. The lift began its descent downwards. Only to stop two floors down.

An amused Kuchiki Byakuya stood at the lift lobby, staring unabashedly (Or rather, she assumed it was unabashedly. That guy looked the same all the time anyway.) at the large number of people crammed into the small space. A twitch of the eyebrow, and the lift burst into giggles, chuckles and sniggers.

Renji merely moved forward and squeezed into the lift. "Ne, senpai, see you downstairs?" More laughter. A sharp nod before a slightly smirking Kuchiki Byakuya turned away and made towards the stairs. "Hurry! Close the door!" The lift erupted once more.

A loud "Again, Renji?" from a person who she supposed was Ikkaku. It sure sounded like the bald man. Sniggers all around. "You forget that every time you try this, he always wins, and you always end up doing the paperwork, right?" More laughter.

Someone stumbled on the other side of the lift, and a chorus of "Whoa"s followed as the group shuffled within the too small space, trying to stay on their feet. Nanao, completely unsuited to this, stumbled backwards and came into contact with what seemed to be a brick wall. When she reached a hand out to try and get to her feet, she almost died of embarrassment when she realized that lo and behold, the brick wall had a name, and was the most fearsome person in the lift, Zaraki Kenpachi. "Er... eep?"

A chuckle. "No worries." He helped her up, a grin on his face. " 'S long as it wasn't on purpose, I don't blame you." There was a pause as his eyes narrowed slightly. "It wasn't on purpose, right?" Nanao shook her head, mortified at the number of eyes turned her way, and the devious grins that accompanied them. A snigger from Ikkaku's corner.

"Ken-chaaaaaaaaan, stop picking on Booky! It's mean!" A pink head popped from over Zaraki's shoulder, an impossibly large grin on her face, waving frantically with the hand that was not supporting herself. "Hi Booky! I'm Kusajishi Yachiru! Nice ta meet you!" A tiny hand stretched out as she crawled a little higher onto Zaraki's shoulder, the big man raising an eyebrow as he looked at the little one squirming around on his shoulder.

Blinking, Nanao was not sure what she had expected. But whatever that had been, it was definitely not this. She had assumed that Zaraki was boarding in the rooms with his… daughter (That was what she assumed Yachiru was.), but she had assumed that the little girl would have been at school or daycare or something. Not at the workplace of her… father. In any case, she shook the hand, a slight smile on her face.

Yachiru beamed happily back, and everyone lost interest as the lift reached the third floor. Renji held his breath. The lift dinged to yet another stop, and the red haired man groaned as they caught sight of coat tails disappearing down the stairs. "Don't say I didn't warn you." A very Ikkaku-like voice echoed from a corner, and Renji scowled in the general direction of Ikkaku.

Thankfully, they reached the first floor. Waiting in one of the sofa provided for guests was one completely unruffled Kuchiki Byakuya. A smirk later, he got up and joined them, shooting Renji a smug look. Sniggers. Nanao on the other hand, had not noticed anything, being too busy breathing in fresh air. It was not that the lift was slow, merely that there had been too many people in that small confined space.

Nanao decided that she like wide open, quiet places. And here was one. The lobby was large, open, the glass doors letting in much of the sunlight. Finally, Nanao could breathe again. Thank god for architects with some sense. Turning past a few rooms, the rowdy group entered the cafeteria. It was loud, bustling and noisy, but it was not claustrophobic or anything like the lift had been.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Nanao moved to get a tray of food, before finding herself being dragged away towards Rangiku, the blonde grinned happily. "Told ya that they'd be arriving today, right?" Nanao was dragged along into an adjoining room, where a small group of jetlagged people were lounging around the room.

A scruffy haired man, looking somewhat like Hisagi-san was puffing away on a cigarette, or at least that was what it seemed like, as he read a newspaper. A meek girl, head bowed as she sat in perfect posture on a chair looked up as they entered. The third was sleeping, his hairstyle almost triangular, the goatee on his chin sticking out rather oddly.

Without looking up from the newspaper, the Hisagi-san look-alike (minus choker, tattoo and scratches) snapped irritably. "We're not hungry. Geez, do you people not communicate or something? That's the third time already. I really don't care if we're in Japan now, because as far as I'm concerned, now is the time when I sleep, and you guys are wasting my sleep time, and I don't like having my sleep time wasted. I'll sic Kuu-chan on you if this continues, and believe me, you don't want Kuu-chan sicked on you…" He paused, not hearing anything, which would mean that the people had not yet left the room. "WE ARE NOT HUNGRY. There. Happy?" A large puff of smoke appeared from behind the newspaper, together with a sigh. "Geez. Weird people."

The room was largely silent, only a chuckle from the doorway as the two bosses slipped into the room. It was not that they could not think of a retort. They were just stunned. Completely, utterly stunned. This guy was an hour new, and already he was retorting the local people.

And smoking. In a non-smoking room. Ukitake's smile was wide as he whipped out a fork (and where on earth he had gotten a fork from, nobody knew), poking it through the newspaper, creating four very nice little holes. "Mind if you don't smoke?" The Hisagi look-alike blinked, stunned. "My lungs can't take the foul smell."

"A-Ah… Gomen." The cigarette was hastily stubbed in a pocket ash holder, a sheepish grin as the hole-y newspaper was folded up and placed to a side. He scratched at the back of his head, holding out a hand. "Shiba Kaien checking in from Deutschland. Pleased ta meet ya." Ukitake shook his hand, amused, but not saying a word. Shiba looked around him, frowning slightly. "I thought..."

He looked around at his surroundings, just noticing the largely half-amused half-insulted crowd. His sheepish grin widened. "Sorry 'bout just now. I blame jetlag. I'm supposed to be happily asleep by now… By about four hours ago." He yawned widely, covering his mouth with a hand. He seemed to be noticing things in stages, Nanao noted, as he leant over and nudged the triangle man with a toe.

"Oi, Kotsubaki." A pause. "Kotsubaki!" He sighed, moving over and slamming a hand into triangle man's stomach. "KOTSUBAKI SENTAROU!" The other man sat up suddenly, smashing his forehead into Kaien's jaw, and both of them rolled away, clutching the respective parts of their faces. Two groans were heard.

Ikkaku snorted. Renji chuckled. Urahara, who just entered the room, was giggling away, face half hidden behind that fan of his. "Welcome ta the team! Yer going ta fit in just fine." Ah, Ichimaru had arrived. "Ne, Kyouraku-senpai?"

The pink man in the corner grinned, before sitting up, the light of a revelation in his face. Nanao wondered vaguely what was going on, or rather, what kinds of great ideas he had. She resisted slamming her head into the wall when he beamed, happily proclaiming, "LUNCH!"

A loud groan and a thud meant that someone else had already done it.

No prizes for guessing who.


	5. Guns And Such

"Nanao?"

"Hm?" Not looking up from her work, Nanao knew that it had to be Rangiku. No one else had so much time and was willing to spend it with her so readily. (And no one else had her talent of getting out of work.)

"You prepared for the assessment?" Oh crap. It had completely slipped her mind, and to tell the truth, she was considering writing in to Kyouraku-senpai to ask to be exempted. There were no talents that she could exploit. Her skills with a sword left much to be desired, and as for a gun, she had never touched those things before.

A pause as she rationalized out her thoughts. There was no use staying in a society such as this without any skills at all. She was going to need something to be good at, to defend herself with. On the other hand, it was going to be very embarrassing if she did not quite make the cut on assessment day. Perhaps… Yes, that was possible. One could not stay embarrassed around Rangiku. It was simply impossible. And yet, at the same time, one part of her refused to ask for her help. That part might just have something to do with her pride. Wrestling with herself for a while, she quickly came to a conclusion. (It was not polite to keep others waiting.)

Looking up from her papers, she met Rangiku's questioning gaze. "No." She was surprised by the blonde's reaction, which had not been shock, horror or disgust or anything like that. (Then again, this was Rangiku.) A happy grin met her instead. "Need help? Yoruichi's been getting restless from the lack of action. I'm pretty sure we could get her to help you."

Relieved, Nanao nodded. "Then what are we waiting for?" Dragged from her seat for the second time that day, she spluttered something about needing to finish her work, only to be completely ignored by Rangiku. "Maa, Toshiro knows what I'm doing… If Shunsui has a problem with that, he'd have to take it up with Toshiro. That's if he has a problem with that. Kyouraku-san's quite lax about these things."

* * *

The basement training room was exactly as she had expected. Cavernous, a part of her was dying to try out if there would be an echo. Only a part. At the same time, relatively dim lights lit the corridor, flickering to life as the walked past, looking for Yoruichi's office. The level of technology in the place was much higher than above ground, rightfully so.

Nanao found it interesting that there was a doorbell outside of the office door, but Matsumoto merely pressed it, and waited. Sure enough, there was quite a lot of shuffling on the other side of the door, before a reluctant. "Come in." Scratch that. A _very_ reluctant "Come in." Smirking at something which Nanao was clueless about, Matsumoto eased open the door, flouncing into the room with as much bubbly happiness as she could manage. (Which was actually quite a lot.)

A disgruntled Yoruichi and a grinning Urahara sat across the table, the latter excusing himself quickly, a cheery wave as he disappeared down the corridor. Matsumoto looked particularly mischievous, and the glare that Yoruichi was bestowing upon the blonde seemed to indicate that something had happened. Something which Nanao had a slight feeling that she knew what it was, but was not absolutely sure of. The huge feline grin she had first encountered was back when she turned to Nanao. "So, what brings you two down here?"

* * *

Five minutes later found Nanao donning a loose set of pants, tying her hair back in preparation for training. Rangiku had left earlier, with a wide smile, saying something about Toshiro getting angry. Nanao suspected that the earlier statement about Toshiro being willing to back them up had probably been false. In any case, she was alone when she reentered the enormous empty training room.

Yoruichi was already there, dressed in her usual garb, the orange long sleeved shirt, black tights and a wide smile. She was passed a katana, and her grip was adjusted. The katana was unwieldy in her hands, and one look from Yoruichi had it swapped to a wakizashi. And then a dagger. However, the dagger fit well in her hand, and she found that it was not too difficult to use it. This sparring business was quite alright, actually, although she strongly suspected that Yoruichi was going easy on her. Very easy.

She was getting into the flow of things, starting to understand what was going on. She had never been amongst the most physically fit of people, or even strongest. But what she lacked in brawn, Nanao was pretty sure she made up for in brain. Sparring was like chess. Albeit chess at fifty times the speed and a hundred times the danger. But still, chess. And she was passable at chess. A few exchanging of hits later, Yoruichi stopped, a big grin on her face.

"You'll be needing to come down every so often, so you can practice. But other than that, you're quite good at this." A thoughtful pause as she considered something. "Not good enough for the assessment though. You're not _really_ good at this. Not good enough to take down someone like that Muguruma with Hirako and his gang." Another pause as she surveyed Nanao. "We're going to have to get you something else to be really good at."

Nanao was about to state that she had never been any good at any physical activities, when she was leveled with a happy grin. It reminded her of the Cheshire Cat, and it was incredibly appropriate. There was something almost cat-like to Yoruichi. But in any case, she found herself dragged off somewhere, for the umpteenth time that day. This time, she was brought to a large partitioned room, which was not quite so empty.

A few of the people bowed as Yoruichi passed, before going back to what they had been doing. Thuds and bangs echoed through the room, and Nanao was rather shocked, before they reached the largest room right at the end. A beep, flashing of fingerprint and punching in of a keyword confirmed Nanao's suspicions of Yoruichi and Urahara's relationship being a little closer than what the average person saw. Hm… Interesting.

However, she did not have time to contemplate the implications when she saw the interior of the room. Racks and racks of weapons adorned the walls. A whole wall dedicated to throwing stars, another to throwing knives, and the remaining few all to guns. Guns of every size possible (except the really large ones which would not have fit into the room) were arranged almost artfully along their racks, glinting in the harsh fluorescent light.

Yoruichi had marched right up to the guns wall, and was busy pulling guns off and placing them on the table in the middle of the room. Nanao had only seen pictures of these in the various different submitted forms for approval and subsequent purchase. Pistols, revolvers, rifles and even the odd shotgun or two found their way to the table. She stood there taking in the sheer shiny-ness of the weapons. It made her feel insecure now that there were that many naked blades around. She was a peaceful person, and the knives were… slightly scary.

"Ise-san?" Yoruichi's gleeful voice interrupted her thoughts, and Nanao went over to the table, coming face to face with an assortment of guns. "I was considering starting you on throwing knives, but those don't look like your type. And then I remembered how long it took for us to figure out what to arm Ukitake with before finally settling on revolvers. His two Raging Bulls are amongst the most well-maintained guns in the whole organization, goodness knows how the man does it."

Taking in Nanao's surprised look, Yoruichi paused. "You've never handled a gun, have you?" A shake of the head confirmed her suspicions, though something told her that this one would not flinch when firing. (Which was good, because that would mean increased accuracy, and a greater chance for this one to be really good at something.) "Pick one from the table, Nanao, and we'll proceed over outside to give that a test." Noting her hesitation, she continued. "Don't you worry. None of them are loaded yet, completely free of rounds."

Feeling slightly reassured, Nanao went over to the table, Yoruichi watching closely. Nanao immediately strayed away from the M40, the sniper rifles. The rifles were not given a second glance as she went straight for the pistols and revolvers. Nah, not the revolvers, then. And a good thing too. There were already quite a few of them armed with those things. She was deciding between one of the Glock models, and was that… Oh yes, the Kahr K40. Yoruichi had a feeling she knew which one Nanao was going to pick.

The Kahr K40 was small and suited for concealed carry, the newer model with its .40 caliber bullet able to cause some serious damaged if used well. It was thin, and had been designed for reliability. Albeit a little heavy for its size, close to seven hundred grams as compared to the Ruger LCP's two-fifty, this increased weight would allow for better control. (And besides, the .40 was heavier than the 9mm for more punch.) It would be good enough. Fingers curling around the grip, Yoruichi noted that it did fit well in Nanao's hand. Happily shepherding her out of the room, she grabbed a magazine or three from the shelf.

The firing range was… loud, for the lack of a better word. The slight smell of gunpowder in the air, compounded with the loud bangs gave off the idea of 'danger'. And it was dangerous. Steered into a cubicle, a pair of earmuffs was pressed into her hands. "Put these on, this goes here, you hold it like this, point, aim, shoot." Nanao blinked at the simple instructions. It was precisely because they were that simple that she was confused. She had expected something a lot more complicated, and that must have showed on her face, as the patented Cheshire Cat Grin was flashed her way again. "It's a gun. You gotta learn as you go along. You'll develop your own style, and figure out what suits you best."

Pointing the gun in the direction of the target rather hesitantly, for she was a person who did actually function best with elaborate instructions, Nanao vaguely recalled those documents she had read on gun firing. There had been something about looking down the sights. Peering down the metal prongs, she adjusted the gun a little, pointing it at the center target. And squeezed the trigger. From her vague memory of this gun, she suspected that… oh. It had just fired. (Yep, Yoruichi noted. No flinching. Interesting.)

Motioning for her to go on, Yoruichi sat back in the booth, pleased with herself. This was good. With practice, Nanao would be quite good at this. Already, her first shot had hit the inner circle of the target. The second shot, after a little adjustment, poked a hole right below the X. The subsequent shots were all around that area, poking holes in and around the X. Ten shots were up, and not a single one in the second circle. Yoruichi was very pleased, if a little surprised.

For Nanao, it had been a matter of shoot, examine, correct, shoot. For every shot that left the barrel, she noted how she had been holding it, noted how it had flown, and then estimated from there, adjusting the sights a little. It had been mostly trial and error, which would explain the fifth shot being dangerously close to the second circle. A slight smile came to her face. Seemed like she was good at something after all. Not bad.

* * *

Subsequent days found Nanao in the firing range in the evenings, clocking in hours and hundreds of rounds with her new K40. It had been given to her by Yoruichi who had stated that these guns were meant to be used anyway. She was pretty sure that she was perhaps abusing the poor thing, but then again, it was inanimate (and thus had no feelings), and she did do her best to ensure that it was kept clean and proper. But it had paid off. She could now hit the X easily from fifteen feet, twenty feet was a cluster around the X, and twenty five had a spread all within the inner circle.

She was currently working on quick firing, which was not really working. At fifteen feet, rapid firing had only brought about a rather haphazardly messy spread through the inner and second circles. Steadying her hands had helped a little, but that was tiring. Oh well. No pain, no gain. Practice was already making her arm a little sore, and the paperwork was talking a little longer than usual. Then again, she suspected that they did have shotguns for rapid fire, and accuracy was one of the things that shotguns could not claim to have. (Besides, it felt good to justify her own weakness, which she assured herself was only temporary.)

In the meantime, Asia had safely checked in, and business was progressing as usual. The collection of information, the delegation of rooms, as well as the processing of all the extra paperwork, the immigration documents, aliases, identities, everything was in such a mess. Correction, had been in such a mess. Now that she was in charge of all the processing, what had previously had the one leader cowering in his office and the other frantically working away was a breeze. And all it had taken were some simple ground rules.

Like stating clearly the source as well as addressee on whatever document was to be handed in. Like ensuring that if the words were illegible, then that they learnt to type. Simple, simple things like that had Nanao wondering what kind of organization this was. Or perhaps it was simply because none of them wanted to deal with the paperwork, and as such, it had been left somewhere, neglected and rotting away in piles. (Not literally, of course.)

The notices regarding the assessment had been sent out a few days ago, and were to be held in a separate location, away from the city, in the countryside. Most of the members would not be attending, save the few captains of their respective divisions, offices and programs, and of course, the new intakes. Nanao got nervous from just thinking about the assessment, and as such, contented herself with shoving it all the way to the back of her head and not thinking about it, even when she was practicing with the K40.

Happily ignoring the knowledge of the impending doom, cleverly disguised as an assessment, she worked her way through the week, practicing with the daggers as well as the K40.

And then, it was the big day.

* * *

My knowledge of guns is minimal at best, so most of the information was gotten from the Internet. If there's anything wrong, go right ahead and poke me. I'll want to know. This chapter is more of a 'filler-esque' sort of thing. The action will start proper in the next chapter. :)

Cheers,  
Tan


	6. Beginnings

The area was sparsely decorated, merely a patch of uneven ground, a small spectator's stand at one side, and another table placed at the other side. Nanao had been informed of the specifics of the area, and she knew that the table was where the leaders would be seated. This spot gave them the best possible view of the area. It helped that they had a bulletproof glass layer between them and the actual field. Safety measures were not to be compromised, especially when the safety officer in question was one extremely paranoid Kurotsuchi Mayuri.

It was an open space, simple and quick to set up. The few members who had helped out in the setting up had left once the leaders had arrived, and once the others had arrived. Another last minute check had been done courtesy of the subordinates of one supremely paranoid Kurotsuchi Mayuri. Nanao could see why this was a small event. A small scale event was much easier to handle, much easier to control. Much easier to ensure the safety of. And it made the new members feel better to. That one she could personally vouch for.

The new members arrived in cars, minivans, motorcycles. Not many of them, actually. About say, forty? Including all those who had recently appeared, Kaien accompanied by a lady who she had not seen before, Sentarou, Kiyone, Soi Fong, Yamada, Tatsufusa. And most of the leaders were there as well. Kyouraku and Ukitake, Kuchiki, Urahara, Yoruichi, Zaraki, all the big shots, all the heads were there. None of their adjutants were though. The organization did have to continue running even on Assessment Day.

Assessment Day had two main purposes. The first was to initiate and test the new members, ensuring that they were capable of keeping up with the harsh demands of yakuza life, namely, self-defense at worst. This allowed for them to be assigned to both divisions and sectors, as it was on the field that character was truly shown. The second was for older members who requested transfers to more physically demanding sectors to be tested. Older members who wished to be promoted were also assessed on that day. The organization of fighting groups, or divisions, as they would call it, was a little different from the typical sectors of the organization.

While the sectors were mostly administrative in nature, it was clear that when it came to combat, the lawyers were not necessarily useless, and that the Recruitment team was not all pure power. (Granted, they were mostly pure power, but that was irrelevant.) Assessment Day gave the recruits their first divisional assignment. Depending on their skills, they would enter under two main groups, Ranged and Melee, which were split into divisions depending on how they wanted it organized.

Both Kyouraku and Ukitake were proficient in both sets of skills, hence their role as leaders. Most others were proficient in both, but having preference for one type over the other. Melee was split into Long and Short, the Long Weapons headed by Madarame Ikkaku, the Short Weapons headed by Ichimaru Gin. Zaraki fit happily in the middle, though he was often found wherever there was action.

Ranged was split into Lockdown and Backup. The former was headed by Urahara Kisuke, and the latter by Kuchiki Byakuya. Nanao knew that the one she wanted to get into was Lockdown. Backup was the firepower in case something went wrong. In case a deal soured and guns were fired, Backup would move in, providing the cover for Melee to quickly mop up the mess. Definitely not her area.

Lockdown was stakeout duty, locking down an area to ensure that it was safe. It was composed of snipers, and sharpshooters. It was a rifles-only area. If it had not been a rifles-only area, it would have been what she would have aimed to join. However, she was still aiming to join this. Perhaps she might be able to persuade Urahara-senpai to give her a chance. Chewing her lip nervously now that no one was looking at her, she knew that she had an uphill task ahead of her. Because of the rifles-only nature of Lockdown, she was going to have to impress, and impress well to be able to get in.

It seemed that the others were equally nervous, the normally chatty Kaien now sitting there quietly, his trident-esque weapon leant against his shoulder. Nemu was as quiet as usual, but Nanao could sense the uneasiness in the air. And the recruits seated a few benches away were completely silent. Completely silent. There was no flamboyant clothing, no gaudily dressed to impress brat. Everyone was here with a purpose, to get where they wanted to be, and that was it.

Melee tryouts kicked off without a hitch, the newer members sparring off with a selected few older members who had previously applied for either promotion or transfer. Nanao sat with Kaien, Nemu and Sentarou at the benches, awaiting their turn, which they had been informed to be after most of the newer members were done. Something about not wanting to be unfair to the recruits, according to Ukitake-senpai. Unsurprisingly, most of the new members were struck down within the first five minutes, and a bored Zaraki Kenpachi instead turned his eyes towards a few of the remaining recruits.

Kyouraku-senpai was looking as relaxed as he had been, Urahara completely uninterested as he tinkered away with his toolbox, Unohana and her crew on standby, wrapping cold compresses around wounds, patching up small cuts. Most of the leaders looked on interestedly, no doubt wanting to grab the chance to nab the best of them all into their own divisions.

Kuchiki Byakuya looked furious. Knuckles whitened as he gripped the armrests of the wooden chair. Nanao followed his gaze to a rather short girl, a pure white sword in her hand as she sparred away with one of the older members. Shockingly enough, the heavily tattooed man fell to the onslaught. "Kuchiki Rukia, pass!" Quite a few of the leaders looked incredulously at him, and his facial expression soured even further.

Yoruichi sidled over to Nanao, who was sitting nervously at the sides, flipping the K40 up and down in her hands. She could still remember her initiation day. It had been a breeze for her, who had been trained in combat since she was young. It was going to be different for Nanao who had only a week's worth of practice to fall back upon. Then again, the week had been extremely fruitful, which Yoruichi knew via the security cameras. She had watched, very happily, as progress had been made.

In any case, she could tell which division Nanao was aiming for. It was obvious. A girl like her would never fit in under Kuchiki, where people like Shunsui with his Pancor Jackhammer, and Ikkaku, whenever the bald guy joined Ranged, with his Uzis. She was definitely aiming for Kisuke's Lockdown. But then there was the issue of Lockdown being rifles-only. Or at least, no one had applied for Lockdown and did not use a rifle. No one, except for Ise Nanao. This was going to be interesting, no?

Most of the remaining recruits were easily handled by the members seeking even higher promotions, except for two. One was an orange-haired punk with a huge sword, which technically was not a sword but a knife because it seemed to only have one cutting edge. The other was Kuchiki Rukia. And Kuchiki Byakuya looked pissed off. Very pissed off, even though Nanao could not quite fathom why he should be angry if his relative (and frankly, she had no idea what kind of relative Rukia could be to the man) had made it so far into the Melee tournament. Even the leaders were looking interested, and the happy glint in Ukitake's eye seemed to mean something.

The recruit next to Nanao on the Ranged bench merely glared back at the orange-haired weirdo when said weirdo grinned in his direction, pushing his rimless glasses a little higher on the bridge of his nose. She was not quite so sure why she decided to talk to the recruit, possibly because she was desperate to not think about her own assessment. That was probably it. "You know him?"

"By him I assume you mean Ichigo?" Specs guy turned slightly in her direction. "Yes, unfortunately, I do know him. He's the one who dragged me into this after all."

"So you are not here out of your own will, then?"

"I am defying my father's wishes by being here, but no, I wish to be here. You'll be surprised what you can learn just by listening in to Ryuuken's phone calls. Things are happening, and although he won't take a side, I'd prefer to. Same with Ichigo. His father doesn't know what he's doing." A slight pause. "It is rude of me not to introduce myself. Ishida Uryuu, although just Ishida is preferred. Pleased to meet you."

"Ise Nanao. Same to you." They both fell silent as Ikkaku leapt into the ring. Ichigo was the only one left standing, looking very pleased with himself. Rukia had been batted out by some other older member earlier on, and was sitting on the other side of the field, watching the proceedings with a half-frightened, half-amused look, though how she pulled that off, Nanao had no idea.

The fight was brief. Extremely brief. A few hits, and Ichigo was down. The kid had the reflexes and the speed, but he did not seem to have had any training, that huge knife thing that he was waving around just being smashed into his opponents. No class whatsoever. Ishida, on the other hand, did not look impressed, or even remotely smug, just watching as Ichigo limped off to the side.

Ranged tryouts for the recruits began, and Ishida shot her a questioning look as she did not get up and follow the rest of them, instead still sitting on the bench with Kaien and the others. Tryouts were simple, really. Two different types of tryouts, with the recruits allowed to apply for both types. The first was speed shooting. Speed shooting gave the recruits thirty seconds to pound as many rounds of their choice, using guns of their choice, into targets fifty meters away.

A few minutes later, the targets were brought down, the scores assessed, and they moved on to accuracy. It was a set of three targets per person, three shots per target, and depending on the type of gun used, the recruits were grouped into different groups with different ranges. The wannabe snipers were lead off to a position further behind by a scowling Kurotsuchi, where the targets of four hundred meters, five hundred meters and eight hundred meters had already been set up. The others were then grouped into rifles and handguns.

Rifles were at two hundred, three hundred and six hundred meters, and handguns were at sixty, eighty and a hundred and ten meters. This was what Nanao was nervous about. She had never fired the K40 at such a long distance before, and there had been no chance for practice. However, judging from the looks on the recruits faces, none of them had ever had the need for, or the chance to fire their handguns or rifles at such ranges before. This was Japan. Space was money.

The results, or at least from where she was seated and what she could see, were disastrous. For one, the targets looked relatively unscathed, and secondly, Kuchiki Byakuya, and Urahara Kisuke had exchanged looks at least five times, looking gradually more disappointed every time. Until Ishida stepped up to the plate with his rifle. Nanao could not quite see what model it was, and even after she had seen it, could not quite match the shape to the model.

A confident smirk on his face, three rounds found themselves smack bang in the middle of the targets, in the inner circles of all three of them, including the five hundred meters target. Previously, in the speed firing round, he had emptied an entire clip into the inner and second circles of the fifty meter target. Nanao felt her hopes die a little, as he lowered his rifle, staring right back at Urahara, who looked all too pleased.

And then, the recruits were all done, and they were called up, to get ready. Up first was Sentarou, who easily handled most of the members, crashing when he met with a savagely happy Kurotsuchi, who disarmed him in three strokes. Kiyone did exactly the same, also disarmed by the same paranoid scientist, who Nanao would admit was not as wimpy as she had initially thought. Isane was likewise brought down, though the fight had been remotely more interesting. Tatsufusa did not even make it nearly that far, incapacitated by a particularly vicious member wielding a lance.

Hisagi, Kaien and Izuru handled their opponents with ease, finishing off quickly, and each putting up a good fight against Ikkaku. However, the bald man was not the adjutant of Zaraki for nothing, and they were quickly overwhelmed, but not after a few successful hits and exciting matches all around. Nanao did not feel any better. Thank goodness she had not attempted to pass her assessment using a dagger. She would not have lasted a minute, not at her standard.

Soi Fong provided a good fight for Yoruichi, after sweeping the floor with the others who had attempted hand to hand combat. However, even she was defeated after a minute or so. Nemu did not do too well, brought down within seconds.

And poor little Hanatarou, who looked glumly at his set of throwing knives and then over at the target. His area of expertise was unique enough to not have a class suitable for use. She could see that most of the group looked interested at the prospect of throwing knives in action, and boy, were they not disappointed. Every knife flew to its target, striking it with a thud, the handles swaying slightly from side to side from the impact.

And then it was her turn. Stepping up to the range, she took in a deep breath. None of the others had opted to use guns, and so if she did well, there was a high possibility of her getting into Lockdown. Calming herself down, she lifted the K40, whispering a quick prayer. She aimed, altering her stance a little, checking for wind, adjusting for the drop which would be because of the distance traveled, crossed her mental fingers, and fired.

Inner circle. Good shot, if a little low and to the left. Adjusting slightly, another shot rang out less than a second later, before a third joined it, three shots punching a hole through the X. She breathed a slight sigh of relief, before preparing for the next target. Surprisingly, she found this easier, as the first shot hit its mark, her body adjusting to the larger distance automatically. The second and third shots were a little to the left of the middle perfect first, the second more so than the third, forming a horizontal line.

Nanao was proud of herself, or would have been, had her heart not been pumping so rapidly, and the level of adrenaline so high. The third target would be pushing at the limits of the K40, which was and had been a reliable so far. Praying that she would not be let down, another three shots found themselves in the target. She had not aimed or adjusted after her initial stance, merely trusting herself to go at it, three shots consecutively, only adjusting minimally to cope with recoil, which technically, was not really adjusting.

This time, it was not a continuous hole, but rather, three holes. One right on the X that had her speechless with disbelief, and the other two the exact same distance to either side, five centimeters away from the middle hole. Nanao was stunned. But pleased. Very, very pleased.

She had turned heads, this one, mused Yoruichi as after the second set of targets, all eyes on the field had been on her. Bya-kun looked annoyed, as she had not even tried out for his division proper, having not done the speed shooting test, while Kisuke looked to be on cloud nine. He had gotten that rifle boy earlier, and was about to get this one as well. And oh… yes. She did have good instincts. Yoruichi knew when a shot was by aiming, as was rifle boy, and when the shot was by instinct, which by right, should have been brought about by experience. However, knowing Nanao and her severe lack of experience, this was talent. This was good.

Sitting back down on the bench next to a much more relaxed Kaien, a few of them came over and clapped her on the back, congratulating her on great shots. Not too sure how to react to their congratulations, she merely smiled and thanked them, dredging up memories of their own fights, which somehow seemed so long ago, and complimenting them on good points that she had noticed.

The scores were being tallied, divisional and sectoral assignments being quickly worked out, when it happened.

First, they felt the heat, the force of the shockwave throwing them backwards over the bench, crashing into the logistics set up behind. Those who were still seated where stunned, staring blankly at the platform.

And then, it rained metal.

Shrapnel from the setups, the targets designed to puncture and tear easily. The fragments rained down upon the stands, screams and yells echoing all around. They scattered, running for cover. Kaien grabbed the nearest person to him, Sentarou, and they ran, grabbing and shaking the stunned ones out of their stupor.

Behind them, the leader's tentage was engulfed in fire, dust thrown up into air only obscured by the thick black smoke rising up from the previously white surface.

One word flashed into Nanao's head, just as a segment of pipe came crashing down on her.

Bomb.


	7. Win Some, Lose Some

The recruitment had been a disaster. Well, there was the possibility that he was exaggerating, but really, Shunsui was rather disappointed. There had been no real talents so far and oh… Right. He was going to have to eat his words, as Kurosaki smacked yet another one of the thugs into the ground. Not bad then. It had not been a complete disaster, and at least there was something which was not completely bad. Come to think of it, that relative of Byakuya's was not bad too. But the others were just ordinary.

He was secretly looking forward to the reassessment of the transfers, especially that of his new General Secretary. He had heard quite a lot from Yoruichi, most of which having been rather interesting, to say the least. And the glowing review about Kaien from none other than Jyuushiro. Hisagi looked to be rather good, and that Izuru seemed not too bad either. Best of all looked to be Soi Fong. He was certain that she was going to be able to rank quite high within the organization, especially since she had been the one who had been single-handedly running the China branch, which was equally complicated but not nearly as large as the original one.

The Ranged tryouts had been equally disappointing, with no true talent. Until that last extremely familiar face, that was. His jaw had dropped, together with half the leaders', when Ishida's son had stepped up onto the plate, rifle in hand, still shooting it off with the impeccable accuracy and precision that his father had been famous around the parts for. He had not expected the boy to turn up in the first place, let alone come along and show off his skills. (And he was pretty sure that Ryuuken had not agreed to it. Of course. If not, the fearsome doctor cum illegal trader would have shown up on their doorstep already.)

And then, it had been reassessment time, and he was certainly not disappointed. Most of the Melee fighters had fallen to Ikkaku, who was a fearsome fighter in his own right, though most had assumed that simply because he was under Zaraki meant that he was not as good or as fearsome. The first was true, but the second, apparently not. The others had been savagely vanquished by Mayuri, the guy a little off his rocker, but still remotely reliable and still one hundred percent twisted genius.

Soi Fong had exceeded his expectations, really. He had not expected her to trounce everyone else in hand-to-hand combat, and he was pretty sure that Yoruichi had not been expecting this either. The newcomer had still been no match for the more experienced fighter, but the fight itself had been a deliciously exciting one. Little Hanatarou had surprised all of them with his choice of weapons, interesting and innovative. And then it had been her turn.

He had been surprised when Nanao had signed up for Kisuke's Lockdown, and had stated there that her weapon of choice was a handgun. He had been very surprised. At the same time, he was very interested to see what she could manage with the gun. The K40 was a new model, and had been out for at most, about half a year or so, not very long for a gunman to be expert at the field.

He had been even more surprised when she was actually rather good at it, her shots placed quite well within the target. Kisuke looked only slightly impressed, but impressed nonetheless. Personally? He was pleased. Yes, he was pleased. He had not been looking forward to working with a boring person, so this was an interesting revelation. It was over a little too soon for his liking, and since he was not involved in the decision making process of the allocation of personnel, he was bored. Not to mention, it was a hot day.

Taking off his pink jacket and placing to a side, he rolled up his sleeves. These windless humid days were the type he absolutely disliked. What on earth was it with the lack of any proper cooling? Twiddling his thumbs, he let his gaze wander all over the area. There were no reminders of the Melee brawls, but the individual targets for the different gunmen had been, and were laid out in front, a nice neat row of metal plating. He found himself looking at her again, before his eyes were drawn to her three targets, each with three neat holes punched into them, either in a row, or close together. They were shiny, and reflections of what seemed to be the bottom of the platform could be seen.

Hang on. What was… With a cry, he leapt off his seat, grabbing Jyuushiro by the scruff, and the next nearest person, Retsu, by the sleeve. Throwing himself and the other two of them off the platform, their leap was aided by the shockwave, and the resultant sudden expansion of heat. He felt the tips of his hair singe, and the heat scorched his back. Silently thanking the saints for silk shirts which did not burn easily, he crashed to the ground rather painfully. Crouching down, his hands flew to his head, protecting it, the pink suit forgotten, still hanging limply somewhere on a frame of what used to be a chair. The resultant shower of metal was a painful one, but now that his head was semi-protected, he felt significantly safer.

And it was over in a matter of seconds. Sure, the platform was up in flames, but he was sure that Yoruichi and Kisuke would have reacted in time. Zaraki did not seem like he would be too badly off, seeing as it did take a lot to take the man down. However, he was concerned about the others. A jarring pain in his left side did not help matters, and he was rather unwilling to look down at what he was sure was going to be nasty.

Retsu had been lucky to have escaped relatively unscathed, only a thin cut along her right thigh, something small, and not hindering her abilities. It was lucky for all of them as well, as she began galvanizing her crew, the ones who had been present to tend to much more minor injuries, into action. They had a small tent set up within minutes, and the casualties began pouring in. Jyuushiro seemed fine as well, although he was now coughing desperately, moving as far away as he could from the smoke. Once Shunsui was satisfied with the fact that his best friend was mostly fine, he quickly moved on, doing a quick check. He could not afford to lose his leaders. Not now.

The acrid smell of smoke hung in the air, as Ikkaku and his small gang, who looked to be relatively unscathed as they had been lounging away far from the platform to smoke, put out the flames, stamping them down with booted feet. All around him, members were helping each other up, towards the tent for medical treatment. Most of them had been harmed by the shrapnel caused by the explosion. The targets used during target practice were now lying on the ground in several hundred sharp pieces.

Yoruichi and Kisuke were fine, both actively moving around the area, helping others up on their separate sides. Ichimaru was bleeding from a cut in his head, his smile still ever present as he went about helping others up, together with a scowling and slightly limping Hitsugaya. Zaraki scowled fiercely from behind a half burnt face, burnt but not severely burnt. Blood was leaking from a sleeve of Kuchiki, but it did not seem to severe. It was Kurotsuchi that horrified Shunsui.

The poor man was bleeding from more places than just the huge gash along his leg. Being supported by Zaraki and surprisingly enough, Kuchiki, he seemed to be unconscious, hanging limply from their hands. Shunsui followed them into the tent, where he was immediately assaulted and pulled to one side by a decidedly and surprisingly grim Hanatarou, the new transferee with bandages wrapped from his wrists to his elbows. Peering around, and attempting to use his relatively superior height to look out for his subordinates, he was surprised when the sharp pain at his left side acted up.

"Kyouraku-san?" When Shunsui looked down, he saw a worried looking Hanatarou, face half obscured by his own body as the little healer frowned. A soft poke elicited a yelp of pain, and the frown deepened, and he looked so horribly apologetic that Shunsui was pretty sure that there was no way he was ever going to be angry with this kid. "I would apply anesthetic for you, but we seem to be running short of that. I'm sorry, but this is going to hurt." Shunsui sighed melodramatically, deflating.

"Figures," he muttered, "all healers are sadistic." Another yelp of pain as a much more severe bout of pain assaulted Shunsui's side. He felt something warm leak from there, and something dabbing at the area. Resisting the urge to look down, but losing, he looked down and saw Hanatarou with a pair of bloody tweezers. A small, or well, it didn't look too small to him, piece of sharp edged metal had emerged from his side, and he was not sure if he was supposed to be relieved that it was out or horrified that it had gone in in the first place.

A formerly brown strip of cloth that looked relatively familiar to him just that he could not quite place it was now stained a dark red. Hanatarou looked rather uncomfortable as he held up a short piece of bandage which was either just long enough to snake around Shunsui's torso once, or could be folded back to cover the gash about three times. The poor healer looked frustrated, disappearing off into the next tent, before coming back with a roll of medical tape and a slight smile on his face.

The bandage was placed on and taped into place by Hanatarou. Quickly thanking him, Shunsui went off in search of the General Secretary who he had not previously located. Now, he knew that she had been last seen somewhere near the other transferees, and the fact that Hanatarou seemed to be relatively unscathed should have comforted him. It did not. From the few days in which he had seen her work, he knew that she was extremely organized. The fact that she was not currently ordering people around was disturbing.

Shunsui was rather worried. She was nowhere to be found, and he had not seen either Kaien or Sentarou either, the two who had been sitting near her during the short period of time after her assessment and the blast. Moving through the field cautiously, he avoided stepping onto anything which looked remotely metallic, dancing around the area, trying to remember exactly where it was that the logistics tent had been set up. Ah. There.

Moving quickly over, he bent down slightly, fighting back the wince. Frowning slightly at the amount of debris, he began to shift the bigger pieces aside. These were mostly just still smoldering cloth that might be covering an unlucky soul or two. He did not find her under the pile, and although he did rescue a sooty and bleeding Nemu, who he helped to the medical tent, he could not help but feel a growing sense of unease.

While he attempted, and mostly successfully banished the thought on the basis of him not wanting to lose yet another person to flirt with, there was still a nagging thought at the back of his head that refused to go away even after they had all packed up and left the site, the injured and the dead with them.

* * *

Nanao blinked. When had she gone to sleep? She did not remember going to bed, nor the fact that her bed was a little lumpier than usual, and why was there something blocking out the light? Blinking again, she opened her eyes, and realized that her left eye was obscured by something. Her left hand reached up to touch that something. The texture was somewhat rougher, rougher in the sense that the fibers felt further apart. It was still smooth though, the fibers larger than that of usual being the only unusual thing.

Where was she? Attempting to sit up, she blinked at the bright light in her face, trying to remember things. She did remember someone poking her regularly every goodness knew how long, but for the life of her just could not quite remember why. That was before it came back to her in a flash. Oh. The explosion! Sitting up suddenly, she felt the world spinning, and sunk back with a thump and an enormous headache.

It was as if an elephant was doing the cha-cha in her head. With knife blades as the stiletto heels. It hurt, alright. Other than that, she felt mostly fine. Or at least, when she could concentrate enough to think about how she felt, she was rather fine. As she attempted to move her right arm, a jarring pain shot up into her shoulder, and she winced.

"Now, now, Nanao-chan. Retsu says you shouldn't be moving so soon after a knock to the head a day ago." She turned in the direction of the voice, and came face to face with a beaming Kyouraku Shunsui standing in the doorway. Sweeping into the room, his grin widened upon seeing her glare. "Don't be so mean to me, Nanao-chan." He pouted slightly. "Retsu always knows what's best for her patients, and especially after you took that nasty knock on the head from a pipe. Such a bad pipe too."

Her right eyebrow raised, and he suspected that her left eyebrow was raised as well, just that behind the bandages, that was simply not visible. As her hands went up to the bandages again, he cut in hurriedly, not wanting her to think that anything horribly unfixable had happened to it. "Your eye's fine. It's just that the area around it got a little bashing, and the cut was quite deep. Any further and it might have caused some damage, so you were really lucky, Nanao-chan!"

He literally sang her name, and Nanao found herself cringing in embarrassment. It was not that his singing voice was horrible, but rather that she was very unused to, and would prefer if he did not refer to her as Nanao-_chan_. Then again, as she had attempted to correct him about a hundred times since the beginning of her tenure as the General Secretary but failed, there was no point in it. Oh well. The things one had to put up with when one was in the…

"Sir, has the cause of the blast been investigated?" She had lapsed back into business mode then, Shunsui mused, pouting slightly as he sank gently into the large armchair which Rangiku had been previously occupying. The blonde had stayed by her friend's bedside for a couple of hours, before she had been called back by Hitsugaya. Drawing his thoughts back to the conversation at hand, he pouted again. Upon seeing her serious face, and knowing that there was no point in attempting to lighten the mood, he grew more solemn.

"Kurotsuchi is currently recovering in the intensive care ward, so Urahara has been conducting the research and gathering the data while waiting for him to return back to us. Unfortunately, he's the main bomb expert that we have, and his injuries were rather…" He was not quite so sure how to phrase 'lost an arm, leg, and will probably be scarred for life' in proper terms, merely covering it up with ", severe, so we'll be waiting for a long time yet."

A happy grin came back to his face. "But in the meantime, Nanao-chan, Retsu says that you shouldn't be doing any of the work." He happily gestured to the tablet PC perched on his lap, which she had only just noticed. "Which is why _I_ have been doing it for once." Her jaw dropped slightly, and she blinked rather stupidly at him. No way. He had actually done his work? On an ordinary day, it was incredibly difficult to locate him to sign the few key documents, and it was nigh impossible to get him to actually do up a document or two. And now he was actively working, and had completed about ten of those? She was going to have to mark that down on the calendar, when she got back up.

Shunsui beamed at the stunned look on her face, happily reading through the next document, before signing the requisition form for more funds to be directed to Research and Development. Intending to milk the moment, his train of thought, or rather, dastardly planning, was so rudely interrupted by a high-pitched squeal from the doorway, and a rush of blonde hair. Frowning slightly, he waved at her, picking up the laptop and leaving the room. Something about girl talk made him want to leave, even though he didn't really want to.

Nanao looked away from the laptop and back to the doorway, where Rangiku had been mere seconds ago. Not having remotely enough time to ponder about where the blonde had been, she was squashed by those monstrous things which called themselves Rangiku's bosom. It was the patented Matsumoto Rangiku Hug Of Death, which she had seen her little division head, Hitsugaya-kun sandwiched in, to his annoyance. (There was speculation that he was gay because of the obvious lack of any reaction other than irritation, but oh well… Nobody's perfect.)

Gasping slightly from the lack of air, she was released as Rangiku flopped happily down in the seat previously occupied by Kyouraku-senpai, and proceeded to regale her with the tales of what had happened so far. Nanao found that she was rather unable to concentrate. It was probably because of the concussion.

Yep, completely not because of the fact that Kyouraku-senpai was not in the room.

* * *

Sorry for the delay in updating! I've been busy (and kinda dazed) these few days. Stuff should be getting back to normal soon.

Cheers,  
Tan


	8. Good Times

A brow furrowed as the man paused, breaking the rhythm of his steps. He strolled past the empty streets, his footsteps shortening and increasing in number. Something felt wrong. The night was too quiet. The beeping of his mobile phone confirmed his suspicions as he picked up his rifle and hailed a taxi.

It was time to settle things the only way that was left to settle them. So Aizen wanted war? It was war he would get then.

* * *

"When I say floor it, yer floor it, idiot! Don't just stare back at me like I'm the idiot!"

Hirako Shinji's voice raised in volume, as he managed a peek out from the back of the car, ducking back down as bullets glanced off the roof.

"If ya'd buy a car with a proper accelerator then hell yeah I'd floor it, but noo. The almighty Hirako Shinji, the richest man this side of Kyoto buys a cheapass second hand local brand!"

Sarugaki Hiyori glared annoyed her position at the driver's seat, a scowl present on her face as she snapped at the relatively well-dressed man in the back. An irritable snort before she turned back to face the front, the multipurpose vehicle swerving dangerously back to the correct side of the highway, narrowly missing a trailer, and a rush of cars behind that. The screech of brakes echoed out through the (previously) silent valley. Horns honked, completely shattering the silence as the minivan swerved in front of yet another Mitsubishi, dodging the spray of bullets.

The tension in the car grew a little higher, as the short cropped silver-haired man leaning dangerously out the passenger window ducked his head back in, mere milliseconds before said head nearly parted from his shoulders, courtesy of the overly large rearview mirror of yet another trailer. He hastily yanked his tie into the car before the windows scrolled up, crashing with said rearview mirror with a screech. Yelling something rather inaudible (inaudible due to the wind rushing in through the window), he glared at the front, and shook his fist. The one not holding the MP5.

Surprisingly, it was not him who spoke, but Shinji who barked irritably.

"Yer not stepping on the damn pedal, Hiyori! Just floor the damn thing!"

"I'm trying, idiot!!"

"Shinji, Hiyori, stop it. You are both mature…" If Rose had to guess, the word would have been 'adults', had Love actually been able to continue speaking. Then again, neither of them had actually ever behaved like adults before, so personally, he did not see if and when they would actually begin to act their age. (And when that day came, he was heading to the nearest bomb shelter. He was pretty sure that the world was ending.)

"Uh huh, ya just shut up and shoot, Love. If ya were shooting, we wouldn't have to rely on the monkey to drive so hard, no?"

Shinji's triumphantly flippant tone was irritating. Especially since all he did was duck his head even lower and hide behind the leather upholstery of the car seat. Rose did not like that. He did not like people who said stuff but did not do stuff. (Then again, this was Shinji, so if he actually did stuff, something was wrong as well, and Rose would have to book) As such, he could not resist sneaking in a sentence.

"So says the person who bought the crappy car, hm?"

"Shut up, Rose! Don't you laugh about this. It ain't funny, man."

"On the contrary, I'm finding it hilarious, Shinji."

"Well, I'm not, so can you guys just shut up?! It's hard enough trying to shoot the guys without the background noise."

The earlier nearly decapitated man shot out, glaring and looking as mean as he could. Which was very mean, for all those who knew Muguruma Kensei well. (It wasn't mean in the evil kind of mean, but more like mean in the intimidating way.) He glowered at the two arguing people, hefting his MP5 menacingly.

"Aw, widdle Kensei can't shoot straight?" Sitting next to Rose, Lisa looked up from her copy of whatever it was that she was reading, a smirk on her face as she taunted the already furious Kensei.

"Yeah, don't blame us for your own shortcomings, bogey!"

"MASHIRO!!"

"Whoa there, man. Get a hold of yourself, Kensei. Geez, you've been working with Mashiro for years already, why can't you people just get along?"

"Tell that to Shinji and Hiyori, Love."

"We're right here, idiot!"

"WATCH OUT FOR THE LAMPPOST!"

"WHERE?!"

"IN FRONT OF THE DAMN CAR?! IN THE MIDDLE OF YOUR NEWLY CREATED ROAD?!"

Crash. Rose winced as his head connected with the headrest of Hiyori. (To put this into perspective, Hiyori sat behind the wheel, Love on the other side, Rose directly behind Hiyori, Lisa next to him, and Kensei next to her. Hachi and Mashiro were right behind, at the third row.) The collision was not particularly violent, but they were still jolted. But somehow, their pursuers had disappeared, and silently, he thanked his lucky star. (Whoever that was.)

"I TOLD YOU TO LOOK OUT FOR THE LAMPPOST, IDIOT!"

"YEAH, WELL, YOUR VOICE IS REALLY IRRITATING!"

"Alright, alright, you two. That's enough…"

"LOVE! SHUT UP! AND YOU TOO, ROSE!"

"Hey, hey, don't blame me, I'm not the one who crashed the car."

"Yeah, ya heard that, monkey?"

"SHUT IT, SHITFACE!"

Rose rolled his eyes, turning away from the argument, or at least, attempting to. Poor Love. He had been sitting in the front, a map in his hands. He had been the navigator. Had been. He was now caught in the deadly crossfire, while he, Rose, was not. He thanked his lucky stars, before wincing again when Mashiro's too happy voice rang out from the third row of seats. (Multi-purpose vehicle, anyone?)

"Ne, Kensei, how are we going to get there on time?"

"We're not."

"B-But then how?"

"I don't know and I don't care. Shut up, Mashiro. You're getting on my nerves."

"Waah, Kensei's such a meanie… Rose! Do something!"

"MASHIRO!!"

Rose sighed. Again. For the umpteenth time since they had begun the journey and Mashiro had begun to beg Kensei to pass the chips. "I give up."

"Good choice."

"How do you stand these people, Lisa?"

"The name Kyouraku Shunsui ring a bell?"

"Point taken."

A pause.

"Say, Hachi. You got any pals who can come over and bail us out?"

"No."

"Oh. Right. So I suppose we should get ready to walk the rest of the hundred and fifty kilometers?"

"I suppose so."

"Why, thank you, Lisa."

"You are very welcome, Rose. Anytime."

And another pause.

"Anybody with me?"

"I guess so. We'll need water and food eventually, so I guess we should start."

"Too right, you are."

"After you."

"Ladies first."

"OW. Aw, c'mon. Don't hit me with the damn book, alright? It's dirty. Okay! Okay! Okay! Stop it!"

"Just move, will you?"

"Any clue as to where we are?"

"Forty eight kilometers from our destination?"

"How did you know?"

"If you would grow a pair of eyes, Rose, you would then be able to look UP AT THE LAMPPOST WE JUST CRASHED INTO AND SEE THAT IT SAID FORTY EIGHT KILOMETERS TO"

"Oh joy. We'll get there next month." A quick glance over at the first bickering duo, one clutching a slipper, and the other a bleeding nose. The second bickering duo, or rather, Mashiro was throwing a tantrum with Hachi and Love holding Kensei back. Rose sighed, he and Lisa exchanging a disappointed and exasperated look.

"Scratch that. Next year."

* * *

The door flew open with a bang, the people in the room starting and looking to the door. A look of displeasure clear on his face, his eyes were narrowed as the beige-suited man strode into the room, a rifle hanging loosely by his right side. His voice was low and dangerous, each syllable laced with poison. "Kyouraku Shunsui."

Ukitake looked up from his book, blinking before giving a cheery wave and continuing to read. To his credit, so did the other man. Shunsui, who had just waltzed into the room in search of some more sake on the other hand, froze for a moment, before his lazy smile came back to his face.

"Ryuuken! Such a pleasure. What brings you here today?"

Shunsui ducked immediately after that sentence as a trail of five bullets embedded themselves into the wall behind him. Ukitake looked up from the book, while everyone else in the room winced, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible. A scowl appeared on Ryuuken's face.

"Would you care to explain why I go to work on this perfect Monday morning, only to find my _personal_ lab and office blown up?"

He advanced, taking another step into the room, rifle in hand. Hanatarou, the newly instated junior welfare officer scurried out of the room.

"Would you care to explain why when my car has this spray-painted all over it?"

He threw a piece of paper, a developed Polaroid image at Shunsui's direction, the latter picking it up for a look. He took another step, and Shunsui took in his furious countenance, backing away. Matsumoto and Kira slunk out of the room.

"Would you care to explain why I am getting a message from my son stating that "I am fine."?" I do not normally require Uryuu to inform me that he is fine, because it is the normal assumption that he is."

An expensive mobile phone was thrust into Shunsui's face, the words printed there. Ukitake's book was on the table with a thud, a slight frown on his face. Ikkaku and Yumichika exchanged looks, excusing themselves, half running from the aura of killing intent that Ryuuken exuded, half running from the fear induced by the scowl on Kenpachi's face.

"Would you care to explain why my house has been burnt to the ground, with that same sign burnt into lawn?"

Ryuuken's voice had gradually increased in volume, and he was now yelling, glasses flashing dangerously. The whole room could hear him, and it was silent. Urahara attempted to leave, but was tugged back by Yoruichi.

He stopped advancing, merely hefting the rifle, an unreadable look on his face.

"Your internal problems should be solved by yourselves, and yet, here I am, pulled into this mess because you cannot handle it yourself."

There was a pause as he surveyed the room, half of them looking mortified, and the other half distrusting. His upper lip quirked slightly, before he lowered the rifle. "Now," he began in the characteristic Ishida drawl (Shunsui had a rather bad feeling about this).

"If you needed my help, you could just have asked."

The tension dissipated, but still, no one looked comfortable enough to approach Ryuuken. (None of them were sure if he was still angry, and in the case that he was, did not dare approach him. Dude, here's one scary person with a rifle. No one felt like dying yet, ally or not.)

A phone beeped, and Ukitake picked it up. All eyes turned to him, as he replied happily, "Kyouraku Industries! How may I help…" A white eyebrow raised and a smirk came to his face.

"Ah, I see. That is indeed troublesome. Oh? You require? I see, I see. And your location again? What did you say? Ah, pardon me. My ears aren't as good as they used to be. No, that is not possible, and I'm sorry, no. No, as you are currently not near my location, I deem it impossible for you to do as you just threatened. Yes, it is funny. No, I do not care. No, we do not have spare rooms."

The room collectively blinked as he tugged the phone away from his ear hurriedly, holding it at arms' length, eying it warily as a voice burst from it. "UKITAKE JYUUSHIRO! GET US A DAMN TRUCK! NOW! OR I'LL SET THE MONKEY ON YOU!"

"OH YEAH, SHITFACE? WHO'S GOING TO KILL WHO, HUH?!"

Sniggers broke out in the room. Ryuuken raised an eyebrow as he sank into a seat next to Shunsui.

"Good times, eh, Ryuuken?"

"Good times indeed."


	9. One Big Happy Family, Not

"UKITAKE JYUUSHIRO! YOU GET YOUR BUTT OUT HERE RIGHT NOW OR I'LL…"

"Yo, Hirako." The door creaked open, and Ukitake popped his head out, a wide smile on his face. Waving happily, he opened the door fully before ducking as a slipper connected with where his head had been mere milliseconds ago, the grin not once wavering. (Nanao's spirits sank. This was not good. Reinforcements were supposed to be better than the original force, and this did not look like it. Not at all.)

"YOU FINALLY SHOW YOUR FACE, YOU BAKA!" Hiyori scowled, her other slipper already in hand. It would have been extremely threatening on a normal day, the silence of the room holding its breath. "Would have been" being the three keywords. However, seeing as there was a soft drip-drip in the background as water dripped from the ponytails, clothes and weapons down into a little puddle on the ground, it was not at all intimidating. Ukitake's smile merely widened.

"Pleased to meet you too, Sarugaki-san."

A low growl as the motley crew of sopping wet people flopped into the room, trying and failing to not wet the carpet. Shunsui chuckled at the gradually increasing puddle of damp carpet. (Nanao winced at the paperwork required to send said carpet for dry cleaning.) "Have a seat. You have… business to conduct with us, Shinji-kun?"

Said 'Shinji-kun' narrowed his eyes, glaring unhappily back. "Why yes, Shunsui-san," he trilled. Half the room glared at him for completely ruining the moment, and the other half recoiled in horror at the shockingly sarcastically sickeningly sweet tone.

"Oi, oi." Something collided with Shinji's head with a loud thunk, and attention shifted that way to find a grey-haired man standing right next to Shinji, his MP5 raised up high threateningly. (For some reason, Nanao felt that she should recognize these people, but for some reason, she did not. How curious.)

"Don't you EVER use that tone again. Killing my eardrums, stupid." Muguruma Kensei scowled fiercely, not at all yielding to the pathetic face that Shinji was attempting to pull.

"I see you haven't changed a bit, eh Kensei-kun?" Ukitake beamed, gesturing to one side for the grey haired man to sit down. Kensei did so with a scowl, but it was another of those I-am-annoyed scowls rather than the I-really-do-not-trust-you scowls.

"And neither have you, Ossan." He shot back, this time a smirk growing on his face at the semi-annoyed look on Ukitake's face. The room sat back and enjoyed the show, with the sole exceptions of Shinji and Hiyori, who were engaged in a glaring match.

"Maa, I'm not that old. Really now, Kensei-kun." Ukitake waved a hand, grinning sheepishly. He stopped in mid-wave, turning around and smacking Rose on the head with a roll of newspaper that had been on the table. "Oi, oi. No smoking." The room blinked at the sudden shift in topic.

Ryuuken cleared his throat, and the attention was drawn back to him again. He shot a glance at Shunsui and Shinji, the former having taken Hiyori's place in the 'Let's piss off Shinji tournament' and thus unavailable for comment, before speaking up.

"We've been attacked," he began simply, "We all know who did it. Ishida Enterprises treats this as war." A glare was shot in Uryuu's direction, almost daring him to speak up and object, before Ryuuken continued. "And so, the required funds, logistics and associated materials will be rendered available. What I can get, I can provide." Shunsui looked like a kid in a candy store, and Nanao had no qualms whatsoever that Ryuuken had noticed.

"However," the sadistic businessman cum doctor continued, a slight smirk going to his face, "Because I can does not mean I will. I am rather aware of the financial state of Kyouraku Industries, and since you would appear to be the largest contributor and party in this war, it thus makes perfect sense that the majority be paid by Kyouraku Industries."

Shunsui's spirits sank as he slumped rather noticeably on his chair. Ukitake snorted loudly at the sight, the room burst into laughter, and Gin whipped out a camera, snapping away before Shunsui's attention turned away from being hurt by Ukitake's 'cruel laughter' (Jyuu? I thought you were my best friend? How could you?) and onto the camera. A good seven shots had been taken before said pink man noticed and attempted futilely to grab for the camera.

A chuckle rose from the doorway at the spectacle, and the room acted collectively and turned once more. "A party I was not invited to? How could you, Kisuke?"

"Eh… Kurosaki-san…" Urahara beamed happily, waving and gesturing to Kurosaki Isshin to sit down. Hiyori looked particularly displeased at the arrival of someone new whom she did not recognize, and even Shinji looked skeptical.

"GOATFACE!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!" The door to the kitchen had just eased open, and that orange-haired punk from earlier had been holding the drinks. Had been. The tray had fallen from his grasp as soon as he had entered the meeting room, and the disposable plastic cups of well, who would have guessed it, orange juice splashed to the floor. And onto an annoyed Kuchiki Byakuya's leather shoes, but that was another matter all together.

"Why, I could ask the same of you, my darling son!" Somehow, and Nanao could not quite figure out how, this Kurosaki managed to launch himself clear over Zaraki-san's head, and landed, feet first and fists flying right in front of the punk, who if she was not wrong, went by the name of Kurosaki Ichigo. (And Nanao was rarely wrong.)

"GET AWAY FROM ME, ASSHOLE! WHAT KIND OF FATHER TRIES TO PUNCH HIS KID THE FIRST THING HE SEES HIM?!" Wildly swiping at the flying man, the junior Kurosaki stumbled backwards into the kitchen followed closely by Isshin. A few crashes were heard, and Urahara pouted mournfully. (The kitchen had been his territory.) Nanao winced for a different reason. Those broken equipment would need to be logged.

A loud oomph and a metallic crash before Ichigo popped his head outside, grinning sheepishly before he slammed the sliding door shut with a crash. Yells were heard, but the kitchen was relatively soundproof, so what was said was not clear. Two minutes later, Ichigo emerged scowling from the kitchen, a frying pan in hand. There was a groan from behind him, but that was swiftly put down with a clank.

Instead of looking mortified as Nanao would have expected, half the room merely looked amused. Kyouraku-san was chortling, Ukitake-san was grinning, Ryuuken's upper lip curled slightly and even Unohana-san was smiling. On the other hand, the new arrivals, Hirako-san and his gang all looked suspicious. Suspicious and annoyed.

"I'll dispose of him." Ichigo scowled, emerging once more and gesturing to the kitchen. "Sorry about the trouble. I hailed a taxi here, so I've no idea how Goatface found this place. I didn't tell anyone about it."

Urahara's grin grew much wider. Very much wider, while Ryuuken looked exasperated at best. "Maa, Kurosaki-san, your father was one of us quite some time ago, but he quit," here a triumphant grin grew, and Ichigo noticed to his horror that suddenly, most of the others looked predatory. Really predatory, and he did not like that. "To have you!"

Ichigo blanched and chuckles erupted all around the room with the sole exception of Ryuuken who looked annoyed. Nanao suspected that there was something between the Ishidas and the Kurosakis, but she could be wrong. There was always a possibility that she was wrong. It just had not happened yet. But she would bet quite a load of money there was, in any case.

Ryuuken looked annoyed. He looked very annoyed and from what Nanao could see, seemed to be counting something, occasionally taking a glance at his mobile phone.

"An urgent appointment, Ishida? Are we taking up too much of your precious time now?"

The voice boomed from the kitchen as a smiling but very beat up Kurosaki Isshin emerged. He reached to the nearest thing for support, which just so happened to be his very annoyed and scowling son.

"No, of course not, Kurosaki. Whatever could give you that impression? Besides, as you would already know, my house and lab are no longer standing. How could I have some urgent meeting to rush off to," his tone took on a less dangerous tone, now more like a drawl than anything else. However, his leaning forward menacingly completely mitigated and possibly overwrote his previous reduction in meanness, "if the venue no longer exists?"

His smirk was creepy, Nanao would hand that to him. However, it was not at all close to the Almighty Creepiness That Was Ichimaru Gin. Still, it was creepy enough since it was _not_ on the Almighty Creepiness That Was Ichimaru Gin. In any case, Kurosaki-san looked slightly sheepish, shrinking back a little and hiding behind Ichigo.

"Can we start now?" A voice whined from the corner where a lime green haired girl sat perched on Kensei's chair. "I'm boooored, Kensei." Perhaps to emphasize her displeasure, she thumped his head with a gloved fist, pouting all the while. Nanao noted that that was definitely not one of the wisest things to do. And rightfully so.

"MASHIRO!!" Kensei leapt out of the chair, MP5 falling to the floor with a thud. He leapt towards the back of the chair (which was actually a rather stupid thing to do) and knocked it over, crashing to the floor. Mashiro had already hopped nimbly off the chair and was standing a few feet away looking confused. "Ne, Kensei, what's the matter?"

"Love, grab his arms. I'll take his legs. Lisa, hit him on the head. Hachi, get Mashiro." The remainder of the un-introduced Hirako gang leapt towards the chair on cigarette man's order (his name was apparently Rose or something like that), and Nanao winced. Loudly. She was not the only one who winced. Ichimaru looked more amused than ever, but Urahara and Ukitake had joined her in wincing at the numerous thumps on the floor.

"LISA! STOP READING! HIT HIM ON THE HEAD!" The same blond man yelled again, grabbing onto Kensei's struggling legs. The one called Love (which Nanao figured to be a rather innovative but curious name for a male) attempted to speak up, only to be clubbed in the face by a fist as Kensei struggled wildly. Zaraki was guffawing in the background, and Ryuuken quirked a smile. Kyouraku-san, on the other hand, looked positively mortified, as though he was the one who was about to get hit. (Nanao could not quite figure out why, although the name 'Lisa' did ring a bell. A bell that she could not quite place, that was.)

"Maa, keep your head on, Rose." Lisa slowly rose from her seat, closing her book. A swift punch to the side of Kensei's head, an "Oomph" and it was over. He drooped and the bunch of people let him go. Mashiro wrinkled her nose, pouting as she plopped into Kensei's seat. Rose, Love and Hachi breathed sighs of relief as they flopped into their seats.

"See, that was easy, wasn't it? I really don't see what the fuss was all about, Rose."

"Yeah well, next time you hold him down and I'll hit his head," he sighed, rolling his eyes. "Gee. Mashiro, stop antagonizing Kensei. I'll scold him later." Before anyone else could react, Rose turned to Shinji and Hiyori, the man about to open his mouth and no doubt say something witty. He was quickly cut off. "And not a word from you two either."

A quick look around the room at the amused and bemused looks directed his way and Rose buried his head in his hands. "Oh gawd. I feel like a parent." There were sniggers from all around, the loudest from the circle around him.

"A parent of a bunch of _unruly_ children." The sniggers nearest to him stopped, and laughter ensued from the others.

"Are you done?" Kuchiki Byakuya sounded pissed. Then again, he sounded mostly the same all the time, so Nanao was not too sure if he really was pissed or not, or if he was then was he really pissed because reading his body language was simply impossible. In any case, he had spoken up, and the room gradually quietened down.

"Ne, Byakuya, _ya_ have an urgent meeting to attend to?" Ichimaru sat up, his smile slightly smaller. (Nanao supposed this was his 'surprised' look. His expressions were all the same, merely smiles on different degrees. That that the feel that he exuded. He seemed to be surprised.)

"No. This is simply a waste of time," the noble countered. "I could name many things I would rather be doing." His eyes narrowed in distaste and the atmosphere in the room turned a little more tense than usual. All the cheeriness was gone and even Ukitake-san seemed a little mournful.

"Meh. Ya really know how ta ruin the mood, Kuchiki-san." Gin's smile drooped slightly as he leant forward and rested his chin on his palms.

"But it's really simple ya? We're here ta discuss the Aizen problem, no?"

"Isn't that what I said earlier, Ichimaru?"

"Ah… Ah… Ah… Of course, Ishida-sama!"

* * *

"Are they always this crazy?"

"Goatface is."

"Oh."

* * *

Okay, here's the chapter. It's taken me a lot more time than it should, and I apologize for that. Hope this is to your liking! It's one of those filler-esque chapters because character development is fun and because action takes a lot of effort. :P.

Cheers,  
Tan


	10. Anything To Get It

"If you guys are finished already," Urahara Kisuke glared in the direction of the first bickering duo of Shinji and Hiyori, before turning to fix his gaze on Ryuuken and Isshin, the former attempting to completely ignore the existence of the latter, the latter attempting to catch the attention of the former, creating loud noises but still utterly failing. Leaning not so casually over the table to draw attention, he looked like he was going to clear his throat. Looks can be deceiving, no? (And this was Urahara. Nope, not Ikkaku, not Zaraki, it was Urahara, deceiver extraordinaire, also known to the world as He Who Played Too Many Jokes.)

Nanao was sure that he was trying to get the four people to look at him. What Nanao did not expect was for a large pink assumingly air-filled pig to appear on the table, not oinking but quacking madly. Nope. Of all the possible ways she would have thought to gain the attention of others, a large pink assumingly air-filled pig quacking madly had not at all come to mind. Not at freaking all. Where on earth had he gotten the pig from in the first place? And how on earth had he set it up on the table?

She noticed that he was the only one grinning. And by grinning, she meant grinning like a madman and looking like one. "So, can I begin?" It was apparently a winning smile, for both duos backed down and glared at each other. Actually, Hiyori huffed and turned around while Shinji made a face, only to be smacked down by Kensei next to him. Ryuuken merely looked away from Isshin, which was actually what he had been doing for the past five minutes while Isshin slumped and pouted.

Urahara must have been wonderfully perceptive for apparently, all the different reactions were a signal for a hyperactively overly exuberant, "Yosh! Let's start, then!" Zaraki's men tried not to groan collectively but failed, Byakuya looked up from polishing his own shoes, Nanao whipped out a laptop to take notes, Ichigo inched away from his father, Ukitake and Kensei reached out to whack Shinji on the head once more just for good measure. Yup, they were ready for the briefing.

Urahara's grin piped down a little before completely disappearing, a more solemn and serious look replacing it. Personally, Nanao found this face a little disturbing. There was no telling what he was thinking behind it, and she liked knowing how people thought. "We all know it's Aizen behind this, so I thought that I would elaborate a little on his partners," Ichimaru coughed loudly, getting to his feet and sweeping into a bow, "who Gin was nice enough to do some scoping around and find out."

A little wave of his hand and one of the research technicians, a youth named Akon, pressed a button and activated the slides. The projector whirred to life and the table collectively leant a little closer to the wall which now doubled as a screen. A picture of a man looking too confident to be normal appeared. "Aizen Sousuke," Urahara muttered with distaste, gesturing with a metal pointer, "Head honcho of the operation. We don't know too much about him, except for that fact that he once worked with us. Nothing turned up on his past, his university qualifications or even his life before he was working with us."

A click. "Barragan. Again, not much on this guy, but we went a little deeper," Urahara coughed, "and paid a little more money, and it turns out that his company does retail of pretty much anything, also known as black marketing. Owns properties all over the world. Why he would ally with Aizen is anyone's guess, it could be money, power or something that greedy people want. We think that Aizen allied with him for his connections, something which he did not have previously. And it is precisely his network that makes him so dangerous. Any questions so far?"

"Can ya get to the point?" Zaraki looked bored but pissed at the same time. "Show us the bastard who blew up the training ground, Urahara. I've got a score to settle with the asshole. I don't give a damn about the others. You guys can do yer sissy plotting and all. I'm gonna beat that asshole into pulp."

Nanao's mind flickered to her neighbor in the hospital ward, the normally hyper jumping menace known as Yachiru. Nanao was fine, the slight concussion had been as it was, slight, and there were no lasting after effects besides more common headaches which Unohana-san had assured her would fade in a week or two. Most of the others were fine except for Yachiru who had not gotten away in time, having been hanging around the other side of the stands bothering Kurotsuchi. The little girl was recovering from some rather serious burns and shrapnel wounds even as they were having the meeting.

And speaking of Kurotsuchi, the father was currently undergoing emergency medical treatment, which would explain why Unohana-san was not present, with Kotetsu-san sitting in as her replacement. Rumors had it that he was intending to replace some of his severely damaged limbs with implants and prosthetics which had been developed recently by the sub-department under him. Nemu was fine though a little shell-shocked. Matsumoto had bounced happily into her life and was now guiding her to live it properly without the influence of Kurotsuchi Senior.

Urahara nodded slightly grimly, which intimidated most of those who knew him, before bending over the computer and flashing through three more slides. "That would be this man. Nnoitra Jiruga." Another click and the picture of a sneering almost snake-like man appeared on the screen. White suit, black shirt, white tie and a cigarette dangling from his mouth, Nanao took an instant dislike to the man. She did not like the smoker types, nope, not at all. And it was something about the way that he seemed to be carrying himself that she had a great dislike for. Come to think of it, that face was rather familiar. Now, if she could only remember why.

"24th Mafia-esque Boss, controlled a sizeable area in Western Russia as well as shipping routes throughout the region with a monopoly on the Arctic Circle waters, cooperated with the Grantzes to oust former Siberian Mafia leader Neliel Tu Oderschvank due to unknown reasons. Blew up the headquarters while they were at it, and has sponsored numerous military expeditions, illegal ones, of course. He is probably aiming to secure superiority around Japanese waters, that which is currently controlled by the Ishidas."

Urahara paced around the table, stopping behind his own empty seat. "This means two things. Firstly, Aizen wants us out of the picture. That is rather predictable. After he left us quite a while back and even started up his own organization, it was obvious he wanted his old gang out of the picture. But now, it seems that he wants everyone else besides him out of the picture. That's the Ishidas, Hirako and gang, and probably even Yamamoto-san and the Shibas. Anyone and everyone who's got connections to us, he wants gone. That's what we've got so far."

"Secondly," this time it was Ichimaru who spoke up, "Jiruga-san's previous association with the Grantzes means that it is likely that they are on Aizen's side as well. That means that he's serious about whatever he's doing, because the Grantzes don't come cheap. I don't think he's just trying to get rid of us, only that getting rid of us will let him accomplish something bigger. Judging by the way with which he has utterly eradicated the streets of the other major cities of opposing gangs, and judging by the huge conglomerate which he seems to be setting up, he wants to go national first." Ichimaru raised his head slightly, looking straight at the two bosses before sweeping his gaze around the room. "With his new network of mostly foreigners, we think he wants to go international."

Silence filled the room as Ichimaru sat down, his smile a little larger than usual, which in his own unique series of facial expressions meant that he was uncomfortable or slightly displeased or both. As with most of the room, Nanao was stunned, her pen falling to the notebook softly. Most of the senior members merely looked displeased or resigned while the newer members, the transferees and the rookies, were utterly stunned. They were all waiting for something to happen, for someone to say something. It was simply not possible. To take over the world? Insane, impossible! Aizen was completely off his rocker!

"Thought so." Blinking, Nanao looked up to where Ukitake-san had just spoken up, the white haired man exchanging glances with Kyouraku-san. Leaning his elbows on the table, he continued, "Shunsui and I have had suspicions ever since we received word from Komamura that his clientele had been decreasing in size. That and the demand for goods and works has been going down. Most of you would know," he shot a glance at Zaraki who merely looked faintly annoyed as usual, "that business for us has been decreasing, fewer and fewer gangs are approaching us with requests for merger, for protection, and even for jobs to be done. The last time we did a heist was two years ago. Aizen is up to something and we're mostly on our own; we have been since the start."

Shunsui cleared his throat to speak. "We've already isolated his main focus." Pulling a suitcase out from below the table, it clunked loudly at contact with said table. A few clicks and it opened. "This," he held up a semi-automatic submachine gun that Nanao was sure she had seen somewhere before but could not quite figure out what model it was, "is what he is dealing in currently. That and he has assembled with him quite an group of," another pause as he attempted to phrase his next sentence properly, "_talent_, which will be elaborated on later by Urahara and Ichimaru. As of now, we are unsure as to what his next step is, but one thing is apparent. He wants something that we stand in the way of, and he is going to get violent to get it."

* * *

"I'm surprised, frankly." He smirked, swirling the tea in the teacup around for a moment before looking up to meet the amber orange eyes at the other side of the table. The room was sparsely decorated, minimalistically decorated, the white furniture accented with either black wood or metallic silver.

"Is that so?" Fingers ran over the cup, a slight smile going to the other man's face as he met brown eyes with an unwavering gaze, the smile taking on a feral edge. The suitcase sat halfway between the pair, open and on the table. "And why, pray tell?"

"Oh, it's nothing. Just a rumor. Just a rumor." The listener relaxed a little, leaning back in his chair. The smirk grew more pronounced on the speaker, gaze growing menacing as he leant forward, drawing closer to the other man's face. The tone was completely different from the warmth and relative hospitality of before, now icy and venomous.

"Or so I've heard, Mr. Grantz." The smirk again. "But it's alright. Not to worry. I'll call the others in for your verdict."

Szayel Apollo Grantz exchanged glances with Il Forte as shivers ran up his spine. Damn, this was dangerous, but if he could get what he wanted, then he was going to stick in this till the end.

* * *

The door creaked open and the occupant scowled mentally at the unwanted intrusion. Fingers flew over the keyboard before he snapped the laptop cover down and turned around, mildly annoyed but not showing it. "You."

"Why yes of course it's me." Lounging against the doorframe, Grimmjow smirked, looking all too pleased with himself. "Who else could it have been, eh? S'not like ya've got any friends around these parts."

"You have not changed a bit since MIT, I see." The occupant spoke calmly, much unlike what one would expect from a person in his place. All the while, he was packing up his equipment and returning the desk to its originally clean state.

"And why would I need to change, eh?" Grimmjow did not like whatever it was that he was attempting to imply with that statement, not at all. No way.

"I would have no idea." The occupant busied himself with moving around the room, calmly ignoring the presence of Grimmjow and treating the conversation as if it were something as normal as a phone call.

Hah. Yeah right. As if the almighty hacker idiot would have something as lowly as no idea. But that was fine with him. If he had no idea, all the better. "Damn straight."

"Perhaps you might have wanted to rid the world of such trash as your ridiculously colored hair, Jeagerjaques?" Ridiculous. As if Grimmjow was completely normal. Back in their university times, that ridiculous cyan blue hair and ridiculous blue green eye highlights were very, very noticeable. Even more so than his own facial features.

"HAH! And who are you to tell me to do that, nerd-face? You haven't changed a bit either." Grimmjow sneered, entering the room and picking up the nearest gadget to look at it. A small black presumably hand held and portable device with a big screen. Well, Grimmjow had never seen something like this before, and happily assumed that it was expensive, judging from his rival's slightly annoyed face, not that said rival would actually show it.

Said nerd-face turned around to semi-glare at Grimmjow, stopping halfway through shutting down the program in the fifth laptop. This intrusion better be important, because the program required quite a bit of processing power and quite some time to set up as well. "I see no reason to change."

"Oh yeah? Well, I do. C'mon, dude, eye lines were so last decade." Grimmjow's sneer broke into an outright smirk as he leant in, gesturing with his right index finger to prove his point.

"Excuse me?" Now he was annoyed. Rather annoyed. Fingers no longer flew over the keyboard as he took in a silent deep breath to calm himself down. No, do not let Grimmjow get to you, do not let the big cyan jerk in the corner get to you. Damn. This was not working. Not at all. Asshole.

Grimmjow knew from the tone of voice and the halt in movement that he had hit his mark. His smirk growing ever more triumphant, he leant in further, taking another step into the surprisingly immaculately neat room. "Yeah. The Goth thing, it's over now, y'know. There aren't so many Goths around now, ya?"

"I am not a Goth!"

Hah! Yes. For once, Grimmjow Jeagerjaques was going to win an argument against this man. He could already see it, the annoyance. A few more buttons to push and he would be there. And it was so easy. Loser hacker must have lost his touch then. This was so easy. Too easy. Almost too easy. "Emo, then. Whatever, you loser hacker."

"It's better than being a loser bomb-constructor."

Oh, ow. Now that hurt. But he was not a 'bomb-constructor'. He was an explosives expert, and he was damn good at what he did. Scowling, he shot back angrily, well aware that he sounded more than a little petulant and childish. He did not particularly care. "Hackers suck."

Huh. If Grimmjow thought that he was going to win that easily, then he was severely mistaken. The occupant simply raised an eyebrow as he turned to face Grimmjow, retorting calmly, "So says the man who can't code to save his life."

"Why would I need to code to save my life? Ya stupid or what?" Che. Just because coding was his entire life did not mean that the loser hacker had to force that onto others. Especially not him. Grimmjow had better things to do than code, much better things. (Like blowing up stuff. Yeah. Explosives were way cooler than codes.)

"_Excuse me_?"

"And what's with the prissy attitude? Don't tell me ya living the high life. Ya not some noble, Schiffer, and ya'll never be. S'not like ya'll ever be rich enough to make it big in Prissy Land." Huh. Stupid Schiffer still thought he was better than all of them, eh? Well, news flash, he was not. No way. There was no way that Ulquiorra Schiffer was better than Grimmjow Jeagerjaques. Hell no.

"So says the man who's still stuck at the bottom of the hierarchy of life," Ulquiorra shot back, this time already packed, equipment snatched back from the undeserving unappreciative of its beauty Jeagerjaques.

"Hell no, that's not me. That's ya," Grimmjow paused, smirking before he leant in again to deal his so-called final blow, "Schiffer No-lifer."

"I do so have a life," huffed Ulquiorra, looking slightly annoyed, which Grimmjow read to mean that he was really very annoyed. Schiffer was not the type to show emotions, so showing them even fractionally meant something.

This was good. He could almost feel victory, and man, did it feel good. Pressing his point further, Grimmjow continued, "Oh yeah? With what? Ya funny keypads, ya laptops and ya digits? Ya call that a life?"

"What about you? You with your wires, your explosives and your lack of proper common sense?" Ulquiorra shot back. No, Jeagerjaques, he was not going to give up or lose just yet.

And damnit. This was the how-many-th time he had nearly gotten better of Schiffer only to throw it away? Damnit, hacker asshole. "Oi, oi. What's common sense gotta do with any of that, Schiffer?"

"Common sense is essential to survival, something which you seem to be having difficulty doing." Schiffer's voice was back to its normal smug tone, and Grimmjow slumped inwardly, growling with frustration.

"I'm alive, dude. Are ya blind or what?"

"I never insinuated that you were dead." And damnit. That tone was getting happier, or at least, whatever it was that passed off as happy with the weirdo anyway. Grimmjow did not like this at all. Not at all. Time to strike back in the only way that was relatively safe.

"And again with the prissy attitude. Dude, someone needs to get ya a life, and it sure ain't gonna be me."

"I don't want anything you give me, Jeagerjaques."

"Hah. Thought so too, loser."

There was a knock to the doorframe when it became apparent that both parties were so absorbed in their argument that neither had noticed a newcomer standing by the doorframe, not looking too pleased at all. The two heads swiveled simultaneously to said doorway. "He's calling for us, Grimmjow, Ulquiorra. You two, stop fighting for a moment so that we can actually get to the meeting room, will you?"

"Who's fighting, Fishtank? Sure ain't me."

"So says the man who builds bombs."

"Well, ya sit in front of ya digital equipment all day long till you've got no color at all, so I'd say I'm better than you."

"Oh really, now?"

"WILL YOU TWO JUST STOP FIGHTING?!"

"Now look what you've done, Jeagerjaques."

"Oh yeah? It's ya fault that Fishtank's angry, Schiffer."

"Says who? You?"

"JUST SHUT UP! YOU TWO! I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE! AND MY NAME IS NOT FISHTANK! IT'S AARONIERO!"

"Whatever, loser. Ya suck."

"Surprisingly, I agree with you."

"Huh. Was talking about ya, Schiffer. Such a pansy. Can't even understand proper language."

"Really now? In that case, I take my words back, Jeagerjaques."

"Oh yeah? You wanna fight, Schiffer?"

"As if you could beat me."

"Huh. So confident in your abilities, Eye-liner?"

"Ooh. Look who's talking."

"You bastard, those aren't eye-lines like yours."

"Really now?"

"CAN'T YOU TWO JUST…" The man referred to as 'Fishtank' collapsed in a heap, sobbing. The other two took a look at him, Grimmjow smirking and sniggering and Ulquiorra just ignoring him as they leant to open the doors.

"And that would be the remaining three, Aizen-sama."

"I see. Thank you, Kaname."

* * *

Thanks goes to DelMarch for helping me read through part of the chapter! Hope you all will like this chapter, it's one of the longest I've written.

Cheers,  
Tan


	11. Judge A Book By Its Cover

"Eh?! What're ya doin' here, _Szayel? Il Forte?!_" As he entered the room, Grimmjow blinked once he caught sight of the pink haired man sitting opposite Aizen, briefcase closed on the table. (He casually ignored the fact that all the others had already arrived and were already seated, with the sole exceptions of Schiffer, Fishtank and himself.) As such, the question, or rather, statements, came out almost as yelps.

"Keep your thoughts to yourself, Jeagerjaques. Not everyone here wants to know what an imbecile is thinking."

Ulquiorra refused to admit that the appearance of the Grantzes, the two co-leaders of the high-paying and immensely securely confidentially dangerous research and development company, as well as being his and Jeagerjaques' juniors in MIT, had surprised him. But he was surprised, in any case. The Grantzes had made it big, everyone knew that. Big, but perhaps not big enough? Why were they here?

There was no comparison between them and the head, the lead in that discipline, the genius Urahara Kisuke himself. (Not that anyone had heard from Urahara Kisuke in years now, but his name still carried quite a lot of prestige with it.) He had not expected the Boss to employ such people. Perhaps there was nothing to be surprised about, especially since that no one really knew what the Boss was thinking, but still, this was interesting. It was going to be an interesting development indeed. He took his seat which was regretfully next to that of Grimmjow.

"Take your seats, Grimmjow, Ulquiorra. You are late." Why, thank you, Captain Obvious, snarked Grimmjow in his head, visibly rolling his eyes at Aizen's dreadlocked (and supposedly disposable) sidekick, one annoyed, blind, Tousen Kaname. It did not matter whether he rolled his eyes, or even flipped the annoying bastard The Finger. He was blind anyway. Wasn't like the idiot could see in the first place. And gawd, he was annoying. _Sit down, Grimmjow. Hurry up, Grimmjow. Silence, Grimmjow._ Who was _he_ to say anything like that anyway? Hmph.

The Russian to Grimmjow's left sniggered, cigarette stub crushed in his hand as he leant back in his seat. The dark-skinned woman opposite him frowned disapprovingly but made no move to well, move. Neither did the rest of the table. If possible, Stark appeared sleepier, Barragan more bored, and Wonderweiss more stupid. Grimmjow, however, seemed to be in a not so good mood. (The one just short of foul.) "What, ya got a problem? _Nnoitra?_"

"It's Jiruga to you, _Grimmjow_." A smirk as he took out another cigarette, lighting it and taking a long draw. Baiting Grimmjow was just so much fun. The blue-haired idiot was just too stupid to realize that he was being baited. Not that Nnoitra could actually beat the explosives expert when it came to electronics or something else, but personality wise, he was not too smart. Grimmjow, that was.

"No it's not." Ulquiorra stifled a sigh as Jeagerjaques, that idiot, rose to the bait. Honestly now, this had been going on ever since the Russian idiot had joined their crew. Apparently, baiting the kitty cat (and whoever knew why the Russian had nicknamed Jeagerjaques kitty cat could and would walk away with his second best mouse) was Jiruga's new past time. Not that it was particularly fun. He would know.

"Yes it is." Aaroniero's forehead collided with the tabletop. Grimmjow looked pissed. Very pissed. Much more pissed than usual. Aizen looked the same. Tousen could not see, so that was not much of the matter.

"No it's not." Yammy's face puckered into a grimace as he toppled sideways off his chair. Nnoitra smirked. Ulquiorra scowled at him.

"Yes it is." Barragan looked up from his cup of tea before giving a nondescript grunt and going back to whatever it was that he had been doing. The senior Grantz looked mildly annoyed, the junior Grantz merely surveying the room in that same state of detachedness as he had been in when the three latecomers had entered.

"No it's not." Halibel's fists clenched and unclenched. Nnoitra was still grinning and enjoying himself. Grimmjow looked even more pissed than before, which was a feat in itself since it appeared to Ulquiorra that he was about to explode.

"Shut it." Stark growled from his corner of the table, the butt of the dagger he had been flipping around in his hands smashing down on the thankfully stone tabletop. Tousen flinched a little, and even Aizen looked mildly surprised. "I've had enough with you two. Just cut the crap till I'm not in the room."

Grimmjow looked like he wanted to say anything, but the higher-ranked man gave him no chance, pressing on. "Or I'll kill you. You two aren't precious at all. You're replaceable. There's people out there who I can get to replace you. So you better watch your step, Grimmjow, Nnoitra. You watch your step or I'll remove it for you."

Turning to flash a charismatic grin at Aizen, Stark swept an arm out in an overly extravagant gesture. "The floor is all yours, Aizen-sama. Your humble servant apologizes for the interruption." Quickly retrieving his dagger, it was sheathed and the room collectively sighed silently in relief. Thank goodness for Aizen. Without the dictator, who knew how Stark and all of them would go out of control. Personally, Ulquiorra thought they were all insane. They were not making good first impressions.

A smile graced Aizen's lips. (Half the room knew it was fake. The other half was either too stupid to notice, too pissed off to think, or just, simply, blind.) Szayel Aporro Grantz prided himself on being in the first half, even though he had known Aizen for only about an hour, when he had first stepped into the compound and begun noticing things about the furniture, which then taught him much about Aizen. But in any case, the researcher leant back slightly, relaxed, waiting for Aizen to introduce him to the room. (Or at least to the people who he did not already know, that was.)

There was Jeagerjaques, that cyan haired hot headed senior forever getting into trouble but still acing Physics like nobody's business. There was Schiffer, the silent unnoticeable programming genius who knew everything there was to know about computers and then some. There was Jiruga, who was about as caring as a hungry lion; the man was ruthless as hell, and had the vocabulary to match it.

The rest, well, he had heard of them. Or at least, he thought he had. There was what seemed to be Barragan, that tycoon guy who supposedly owned a fortune legally and a helluva lot more illegally, then that Jamaican secret service turned private operator, which was basically technical jargon for assassin Halibel, professional wrestler turned heavyweight fighter mercenary thing, Yammy, the man with the unpronounceable name whom everyone in the industry just called Jack, conman extraordinaire uhm… Jack. (Of course, his real name was Aaroniero Arru-something, but well, just Jack would do.) And then that last guy, whom he had never seen, and probably would not want to have met. Szayel did not like being around bums, and that last person gave off a very 'bum' atmosphere so it was not much of a loss. It was that weird dagger guy.

And it turned out that he was right. Aha. First triumph of the day of Szayel Aporro Grantz. (The bum turned out to be some guy called Stark. Honestly now, what kind of name was Stark? Szayel Aporro Grantz had a much nicer ring to it. Il Forte was not too bad either. But… Stark? Nu uh.) Aizen seemed to be talking about something rather boring like "Could you all please think through your decision carefully." and "This is important for the future of the organization." Yeah right. As if Aizen would ever grant democratic rights to his subordinates. Szayel had been in the room long enough to know that this was no democracy. Not even communism. This was just an outright autocracy.

There was King Aizen and then there was everybody else.

Szayel wondered vaguely why he had thought of joining up with the man in the first place. Oh well. Too late for regrets. He was just going to get the best out of what he had. When life hands you lemons, you first break down the lemon into all the potentially useful parts. Juice goes into lemonade, fiber sold off to make paper using the newly patented Grantz technology and the skin used to create beauty products. Yes, Szayel Aporro Grantz was just that good.

* * *

Zaraki stood up abruptly, nodding slightly to the two leaders before leaving the room. Most seemed surprised, except for a select few, those who knew Zaraki well enough to know that when he said something, he generally meant it. Nanao had expected him to leave, but not so abruptly, and not immediately. However, judging from their expressions, Ukitake-san and Kyouraku-san expected this, the latter waving for Zaraki to leave.

The room was stunned into silence, however, when Gin followed suit, swinging his white jacket over his shoulders as he exited the room, grin twitching slightly, narrowed eyes dancing with laughter. "See ya, everybody! I've got work ta do. Can't be late for a meeting, can I?" Winking at Matsumoto unabashedly, he half-swaggered half-skipped out of the room, leaving a completely flabbergasted Shunsui behind.

Urahara merely looked mildly annoyed, frowning slightly from behind that ridiculous hat of his, sighing and muttering mostly to himself, though the entire room heard it. "You just had to leave in the middle of the presentation, Gin?" A snort arose from Renji, the red-haired man rolling his eyes.

"You know he probably did this on purpose, Geta boshi. Gee. You're supposed to be smart or something, right?" This time, it was Hisagi's turn to roll his eyes. Nanao suspected that the commotion would have been on a much larger scale had Zaraki's team been present, but seeing as neither Ikkaku nor Zaraki himself was present, there was no chance of that. The meeting somehow seemed a little more subdued.

"Excuse me? Firstly, freeloader-san, that nickname is outdated. Secondly, it is inaccurate. I only put those one for one week. And thirdly, I dare say that I am more intelligent than you. It does not take much to be a baboon, does it?" Urahara shot back, the grin on his face growing wider, to almost comical proportions. Nanao secretly confirmed her initial suspicions upon meeting the group. Yes, they were all nuts.

* * *

Kenpachi stopped by Yachiru's room on his way to the division's sector. In a show that was highly uncharacteristic of the little girl, she was currently sleeping soundly, even though it was the middle of the day. Hooked up to all sorts of machines which he had grilled Retsu-san to ensure would not cause pain to his little girl, she looked oddly peaceful. He did not like that. People who looked oddly peaceful looked like they were going to die. And his Yachiru was _not_ going to die. He would not allow it.

Why, oh why had he let her play around with that Kurotsuchi? It was Kurotsuchi, for goodness' sake. It was the insane mad scientist. Nothing good could come out of association with the mad man. Sighing, he was partially resigned to the fact that yes, it was not Kurotsuchi's fault. Somehow, this had all worked out in a way that would be fine. Retsu had said that Yachiru would be fine, that she just needed time, and that yes, she would be back to her insanely hyper excited self in no time, there was no permanent damage done.

A semi-tender look came over his face as he placed her favorite lavender blanket into the cot, tucking the edges neatly in before kissing her gently on the forehead. Squeezing her hand lightly, he turned to leave the room, to leave the humming machines and monitoring equipment behind.

He had revenge ahead of him, and he was definitely going to get his revenge. It would be very foolish of him to let that bastard go unwarned, or even unharmed. Picking up his trusty AK-47, he left the room, closely followed by a scowling Ikkaku with his Uzis and a solemn Yumichika and his trusty shotgun.

* * *

"So," Aizen drew attention to himself, after the rather long break in which he had granted them refreshments and time to ponder over his request. It was always good to consult his subordinates on matters which involved them. That much he knew. "My dear Espada, have you made your decision?" Aizen's lips quirked into a slight smile, which once again, Szayel Aporro Grantz recognized to be fake. Grimmjow looked annoyed, Barragan bored, Halibel stoic as always, Stark asleep, Jack faintly interested and Ulquiorra blank. Frankly, he did not think that he was going to be welcomed with open arms, but that it would not matter anyway. His presence here meant that he was wanted, and possibly needed, but at least wanted.

"Ya toyin' with them again, Aizen-_dono_?" The last two syllables were sing-songed by a person who had just entered the room. Collectively taking in the appearance of the person, Szayel noted a slim build, white suit, shiny black shoes, silver hair and an impossibly large grin. That and the fact that the entire room seemed surprised, which only made the man's smile widen. Szayel's lips turned up slightly at the corners.

So _this _was the famous Ichimaru Gin.


	12. When You Touch The Cub,

Life quickly settled down into a calm, more or less established routine. Nanao liked routines. Or at least, she greatly preferred routines to bombings. The shallow cut on her head had healed, and the magic of Unohana-san's medical division had removed the scarring. As for the bumped back of her head, she had not noticed anything different from before, she appeared to be the same calm organized Ise Nanao. Paperwork was dastardly boring, and even though she did not like it one bit, she found that this was one of the things which she simply flew through, much like gun training. All in all, she had not changed. In fact, few of them had changed and Nanao was not sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

When he had left halfway in the meeting a few weeks ago, Zaraki had not, as everyone thought, rushed off to an obscenely populated place and shouted for the bastard Russian to show his face. No, he had not. Zaraki was violent, it was true, but his violence was a controlled violence. It was a reasoned violence, and now that Yachiru was getting her perkiness back, it was a focused violence.

He had laid the foundations, used his extensive impressively intimidating capabilities to help Ichimaru widen the intelligence framework. Now, the big bulky division head knew almost as much as Ichimaru did on Aizen. But still, there were no signs of the Russian. Nothing was turning up, it was as if they were lighting the fuse to lead to the bomb, but every single time, they would enter a darkened tunnel, and the fuse would dampen and crawl back out on its own. No, they had no leads, and it was trying on Zaraki's team.

Yachiru was now as bubbly as usual, taking the elevator up and down the building, climbing and scampering up stairs two at a time even though one arm was still wrapped tightly in bandages. She returned to plague the Sixth floor offices of, Kuchiki Byakuya and Abarai Renji, again and again and again, such that the latter had had to hoist her up by the collar and deposit her back on the Eleventh floor so many times that the former acquiesced to let her just stay in a corner, play with her crayons, and please be quiet because everyone else had work to do.

Kurotsuchi had woken from a long restorative and rehabilitative rest, body scarred beyond repair. Upon being informed that he was going to be quadriplegic for the rest of his life, he had scoffed in their faces, insisting on being wheeled to his lab while he ordered his most loyal subordinate around, fixing parts of machinery, attached wires here and there on models, testing, testing and testing again. Urahara often joined him in the lab, offering well-thought out ideas which seemingly only served to irritate the junior scientist, although one who knew Kurotsuchi Mayuri enough would be able to see the grudging respect he held for that man.

And after two weeks of intensive laboratory work, he had tested it out on himself to great success. Where he could previously not move a single muscle beyond his neck, he was now able to turn his head, move his arms and wriggle his toes. And though he would appear annoyed when asked to wriggle his toes as show of a miracle, it was plain for all to see that he was incredibly, incredibly pleased with and proud of himself. Of course, Urahara was very happy too, having just witnessed the birth of what promised to be a whole new field of experimentation.

In short, life was back to normal, or as normal as it could get in the organization. Nanao was happy.

* * *

But good things never lasted, and peace in the yakuza was simply too good to be true. Everyone knew that. There was no such thing as peace, merely calm. And calm, when was calm really calm? And was calm really calm? Calm in the yakuza was merely the calm before the storm, and as the days grew longer and the weeks flowed past, the atmosphere grew increasingly tense as everyone waited for something to happen. They knew it was going to happen, everyone knew it was going to happen, they just did not know what, or when.

And it was a very small something, much like the other small somethings which had sparked off conflicts and even wars in the past. While gang fights could be stirred up by a mere exchanging of glances, it was in a similar vein that the fighting began. It was something so ridiculously stupid that Nanao could not quite believe had begun the gang war, the war for territory and the war for control.

Someone spat on the road. No one really knew who it was or where that had been, or even whether that road had been within either gang's territory. It did not matter.

And immediately both sides kicked into action, the war machines coming to life in a whir of gunfire and conflicts, of violent fights and strained diplomacy, veiled threats and threatened assassinations. Both sides treaded lightly, though each light step carried with it numerous repercussions. The very way they carried themselves in public, the air around them as they spoke, the opinions that their members had, every single little previously unimportant and insignificant detail now meant the world.

You said the wrong thing, you died.

You wore the wrong color, you died.

You looked the wrong way, you died.

It was getting dangerous, this yakuza business, and Nanao could see the foreign influences already taking root in the very way Las Noches carried itself. There was more cursing, the violence was a little less regulated, the sense of honor and not hitting a person who was already down was gone. They were losing more people each day, both sides were, and this was not a good thing.

It had only been a week since the hostilities had begun, but oh boy, what a week it had been. Both sides now rarely ventured out of their territories, clinging desperately onto various important checkpoints within their own zones. If the enemy could not take the checkpoints, they could not enter their zones, and thus was the assumption that they were safe. It was a war of attrition, and both sides knew that a war of attrition would be won by the more connected, more powerful, and more influential side.

Which was not the side that they were on. Nanao knew that, being the one who processed nearly every single document that was passed around the organization. They would definitely, definitely lose out to Las Noches if all they did was hole out and wait. But would they hole out and wait? Personally, she could not quite identify a single member of the newly dubbed Seireitei who would be willing to do just that.

They were not a passive people, and the raids began once more, with higher and higher-ranked leaders leading the operations, the sub-division heads racking up experience as fast as they gained ground, both sides swiftly covering ground as they estimated and prepared for the clash on Sunday, the day that both Kyouraku and Ukitake both agreed would be the big clash.

Meetings dragged on longer than they usually did, fewer and fewer of the top twenty went home after them, preferring to bunk over in Kyouraku Industries. Even Ryuuken had moved into the compound, bringing with him an impressive set of rifles and ammunition. Hirako's gang was also armed to the teeth, and their Kansai based group was rallying, motorcycles, mini-vans and SUVs were converging upon the city.

Being the secretary, Nanao was privy to all of the plans, being the one in charge of informing all the others, of disseminating information and making sure that nothing went wrong before that day. In a series of swift coordinated attacks, they planned to swarm the southern sector of the middle point between the two cities where the headquarters were kept, a modest little town by the name of Karakura.

The various leaders had agreed earlier on, perhaps two or three weeks back, that it would be best to have their units reassigned under different head commanders. Although some would be displaced from their normal positions, this was seen as a necessary thing for battle. As rather obvious, there were quite a number who were not too pleased.

Zaraki, for one. They all knew that he was no tactical genius, hell, he probably did not think before sending his men in. Even though he followed orders well, and was plenty inventive when it came to protecting his men, this was an attack, and Zaraki attacks tended to go only one way, in. After a quick reexamination of his skills, he was relegated to second in command after Hirako Shinji. Technically, he was still in charge of the division, except that he had to take orders from an acerbic sarcastic semi-genius of a Kansai-ben speaker. That was all.

Ryuuken settled into Lockdown easily, still ignoring Uryuu. This relationship was one that not a single one of them in Seireitei understood, but there was no point in asking. The younger was a little jumpier, and the older was just sheer intimidation. No one even dared to talk to either of them when both were in the room. Unless one was a Kurosaki, in which case, Ryuuken just ignored the both of them, and Uryuu addressed them with a look of extreme annoyance on his face.

Speaking of the Kurosakis, the elder was wreaking havoc over in Kuchiki's sector, alternately driving the noble, and his sector, up the wall and alternately going over to Hirako's sector to bother his son. The junior Kurosaki seemed content with avoiding and ignoring his father, fitting in well with the new bunch of equally fight-loving people. All in all, the allocations fit well, and the atmosphere got increasingly tense as more and more reports came in of both sides closing in on Karakura.

Nanao went half insane with the amount of information passing through her desk, the numerous meetings, secret and not-so-secret which Kyouraku-san and Ukitake-san had to go for, the many internal meetings which all the members had to be gathered for, dates of action, dates of planning, weapons, logistics, locations.

Still everything was kept under wraps, all information was on a need to know basis, and Saturday dawned, a day when Nanao woke up and suddenly found herself to be the singularly most knowledgeable person in the entire organization just below that of the two leaders. Slipping out of bed and out of the building (after getting dressed of course) for her morning cup of coffee, shivers ran up her spine even though she was wrapped in a thick coat. She had a bad feeling about this. A real bad feeling. But feelings later. Coffee first. Although yes, Rangiku had warned her about not leaving the building except for an emergency, the lack of coffee was, in Nanao's book, an emergency.

Warming her hands by the thin paper walls of the cup, she inhaled the smooth coffee scent, feeling it enter her and shake her awake with the start that only coffee could manage. Quickly downing the liquid energy, she remembered what day it was, paling slightly. She was needed back at Headquarters, and she had a feeling that she should leave the shop now. Briskly walking back to Kyouraku Industries, the glass building loomed up ahead rather threateningly. This would be her first glimpse of true action, and she was not sure if she really was ready.

Which was also how she realized, as the van pulled up next to her along the roadside, that she was in a very vulnerable position. A very, very vulnerable position. She could just see Rangiku's unhappy pout. Scowling fiercely at the van driver who just pointedly ignored her, she kept walking. If they wanted anything, and she would bet her job that they did, then they were going to have to fight her for it. And Kyouraku Industries was so very close. Damnit.

She heard he van door slid open, and she picked up her pace a little, trying to draw away from the van, not wanting to run but yet wanting to get away as fast as she could. This was very, very bad timing, she mused. Kyouraku-san had a meeting in half an hour, and since Ukitake-san was already away at a meeting, there would be no one else to tell him to move.

Counting to five to steel her nerves as she prepared to whip around and shoot the nearest person, Nanao's breath grew a tad more rapid. Hands reaching for her K40 which was somehow, not there, she failed to notice the person sneaking up behind her, only noticing when something heavy collided with the back of her skull.

Great.

That Kyouraku was definitely going to be late for the meeting.

* * *

Ah, my apologies for the long delay. Here's the next chapter. Hope it's to your liking.

Cheers,  
Tan


	13. Caught Red Handed

The coast was clear. There was no one along the corridor, and Kurotsuchi Mayuri gave himself a rare smile. Heh. Damn medical team. He could do all the things they could do much faster and more efficiently. And now that they were keeping him bedridden, it was almost more than he could take.

Which was why he was currently attempting to wheel himself out of the room by sheer willpower. His fingers were moving now, and his wrists were on the way. He could twist his neck and rotate his ankles. All weeks before they had said he would be able to even talk.

Oddly enough, he missed his lab, and even his lab assistant. There was just something about metal instruments and tools that he loved. He had no idea why. He was definitely getting out of this place.

Looking very much like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he almost jumped when a voice sounded from behind him.

"Now, now, Mayu-chan, you should be in that room, ne?"

He would know that voice from anywhere. Damn Urahara.

The currently handicapped scientist whirled around in his wheelchair. (Ah, good, his spine was beginning to regain motion, though most of it was still because he had rotated the wheelchair with the motorized controls.)

Glaring at the blond sitting on the bed and who was grinning goofily at him, he snapped angrily, "What are _you_ doing here, Urahara?" Damn meddling… genius. He had been so close. So close to the tantalizing freedom that was his own lab. Damn it. He could almost feel the… Damn Urahara.

"Eh? I need a reason to visit my darling Mayu-chan?" An eyebrow rose almost comically as Urahara's eyes widened dramatically. Mayuri was no amused at all, and he was pretty sure that it showed in his facial expression. He felt oddly naked under that ridiculously scrutinizing gaze of his superior, and he hated that.

"Don't call me that! It's disturbing, Urahara! And I'm not _yours_."

"Oya, oya, Mayu-kun. Are you not in my division?"

"There's a difference and you know it!"

"And you, Mayu-kun, know perfectly well that you should not be out of bed."

"Hmph." Mayuri openly glared at Urahara. He hated it when he was wrong, or when Urahara was right. (It was pretty much the same thing anyway. He could not quite remember the last time they had agreed on anything.)

_"Attention all personnel…"_ Mayuri scowled, and he could see the beginnings of a frown forming on Urahara's face. This was not good.

* * *

"What? We're being issued a challenge by them? That is impossible! They cannot already have taken the choke point! Impossible!" Kensei's eyes widened as he stood up, slamming a fist on the table.

"But how else would they dare challenge us?"

"Oh, I don't know. _Maybe_ it's because they have fucking _three-quarters of Japan_ on their side?"

"Language, Madarame. Language." Ukitake-san frowned from his corner of the room as he beckoned for Kisuke to move over.

"Is this authentic, Kisuke?" The parchment was waved in the scientist's face, before it was grabbed out of the air quickly, sharp eyes taking in every inch of the paper.

A shrug. "Sure looks like to me. Looks hastily done though. Wonder what could have gotten them so antsy. It's unlike Sousuke-kun to do something like this. Could be anyone's work, really, though I do swear I've seen this handwriting before. I wonder where."

The paper was snatched out of his hands, Kisuke's eyes widening comically as Hirako Shinji read it aloud from the other side of the room.

"Dear," The blond grinning whale paused for a moment. "Hey, Kyouraku, looks like Aizen old buddy still remembers how to write your name the wrong way," he smirked before picking up where he left off.

"Here at Hueco Mundo, we would like to extend a warm," a finger prodded at the paper, "warm welcome my ass," a group of people watched on agitatedly, before the paper was snatched away once more, this time by the effeminate member of Hirako's team, Rose.

"We would like to extend a warm welcome to you, our friends, to Karakura Town. We have heard many wonderful things about the _talents_ which you possess, and would love to have a chance to meet, experience and _challenge_ them. Yours Sincerely, Ulquiorra Schiffer, on behalf of Hueco Mundo."

The room was momentarily silent, stunned as they processed the implications of the letter, the silence only interrupted by a light hacking cough from Ukitake's corner.

Kyouraku leapt into action. "Kurotsuchi! Contact Ayasegawa and Madarame immediately!"

"Already on it." Fingers flew over keyboards as the wheelchair bound man's head flicked between numerous screens, headphones perched on his head for communication purposes.

"Check for irregularities, have them send reports back at once. Full scout reports, manpower allocations, everything."

"Retsu, do me a favor, get Kotetsu and her squad ready?"

"As you wish."

"Kisuke! Shinji! Byakuya! Get your guys ready!"

"Hai, haaaaiiiii!"

"Finally. I was gettin' kinda bored."

"Toshiro, get me Kuu-chan on the line?" Now that the first orders were out, and the situation seemed to be more under control, the top two relaxed a little, and so did the entire room. The tenseness of a few seconds ago was gone, replaced by a determined air.

"Oi, oi, Kyouraku. Only _I_ get to call Kuu-chan Kuu-chan."

"Yes, yes, Kaien-kun. Get me Genryuusai-sensei on the line, Rangiku-san, if you please."

"Right away, Ukitake-san."

The two leaders exchanged a slight smile. Both had climbed their way up in the same dojo, and had started off their yakuza business from scratch. The pre-battle tenseness was something that they had not had for a long time, but were getting used to again. This was a big venture, which would explain the slightly larger reactions. (Technically, to refer to this as merely big was an understatement. It was large, mind-blowingly critical to the survival of both the organization and themselves.)

"Ise-san…"

"Nanao-chan?"

The room fell oddly silent as the occupants looked at each other.

Now, this was odd. This was very, very odd. The PA system was impossibly loud. And unless Nanao was currently blanketed under a few meters of water and wearing earplugs, chances were, if she was in the compound, she would have heard it.

(Most had assumed that the announcement had been made by her in the first place.)

"She's probably out, Kyouraku-san." Matsumoto grinned at the two bosses from behind a stack of digital equipment, headphones perched on her head.

"Ah, Genryuusai-sensei seems to be on the line." A finger came up, a sign for the room to keep quiet for a moment as she turned back to the screen before passing the headphones to Ukitake. "There you go."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY YOU NEED MY HELP, YOU UNGRATEFUL WRETCH!?" The room collectively winced, Rangiku amongst them as Kyouraku Shunsui held his set of headphones as far away from his ears as his hands could reach.

Shiba Kaien sniggered.

"IS THAT YOU, ANIKI? YOU GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE RIGHT NOW IF YOU THINK IT'S SO FUNNY!"

The sniggering stopped abruptly.

"Maa, Kuu-chan…"

"I SAID DON'T CALL ME KUU-CHAN!"

* * *

Matsumoto sighed, leaning back in her chair. Oh, what she would do for a cup of sake now. She did understand exactly how Nanao felt. (Except that Nanao was not quite so addicted to coffee.)

And speaking of Nanao, what did she think she was doing, taking so long at the coffee place? Tsk, tsk.

Matsumoto sneaked out of the room as quietly and as unnoticed as she could manage.

Which wasn't much, to say the least, as a pair of green eyes and a creased brow followed her movement, and a fluff of white hair scowled.

Goddamnit. Where did she think she was going?

* * *

Matsumoto grinned happily as she eased the back door shut behind her. She had escaped! She had seen Toshiro-kun hanging around the lobby, looking like he was looking for someone, which was probably her, and had decided to sneak out the back door instead. It was much easier, security was no less lax here, but it was easier to explain herself to biometric systems than it was to real people and this was how Nanao did it, anyway.

Clutching her bag to her chest, she twirled her pink scarf around her neck before stepping out of the compound in high spirits. Winter was just about the corner, and there was a lot she would give for a nice warm beverage. Coffee was not as good as sake, but Nanao's intelligent company would more than make up for it.

_"Matsumoto."_ A very familiar voice stopped her in her tracks._  
_  
Crap. So it was too good to be true. Damn, why did the little prodigy have to be so observant? Too smart for his own good eh, little Toshiro-kun. Matsumoto pretended to be deaf, something which worked very well for her. She picked up her pace.

* * *

"Matsumoto! Where are you going?" Not getting a visible reaction, Hitsugaya scowled as he noticed her walking slightly faster than usual. "Oi! Matsumoto! Answer me! You shouldn't ignore your captain like that!"

"And you shouldn't run off on your own like that either," he growled to himself, stomping towards her. Just because he was short did not mean he was easily bullied. Where did she think she was going anyway? They were all moving out in two hours, and old man Kyouraku wanted to take a head count.

Geez, to call it a _head _count of all things. Talk about inauspicious.

* * *

He caught up to her outside a coffee place, where she had just placed an order for what seemed to be latte. He, well, he was a cappuccino person, when he felt like coffee, but that was not often at all.

Tapping her on the shoulder lightly, Hitsugaya smoothly moved his cardboard cup of cappuccino out of the way as she whirled around sharply. "_T-Toshiro-kun!_ What are you doing here?"

"It's Hitsugaya-taicho to you, or at least, Hitsugaya." He rolled his eyes and slid onto the cushion seat opposite her, taking a sip of the coffee. "And I could ask the same of you, Matsumoto. What are you doing here?"

"Eh, taicho, what makes you think I'm doing something?" She was trying to play ignorant. But this was Matsumoto. Ignorant was about as appropriate for her as warm was for Kuchiki. It just didn't work.

"Matsumoto," he sighed, "I'm not stupid. I can tell when you're up to something. So spill. Why are we in a coffee place?"

"Nanao frequents this place."

"And? How is that relevant?" He took another sip from the cardboard cup. This stuff was not bad.

"Well… I thought that…"

"You thought that you would come here to see if she was here just to make sure that she was safe because it is very unlike Ise-san to be late for anything?"

There was a short silence as they both looked around the shop. What he saw, or rather, what he did not see, only confirmed Hitsugaya's suspicions. "She's not here, is she?"

"I-I don't think so," Hitsugaya could hear the slight tinge of worry in her voice. She was rightfully worried, he mused.

"We should head back," his eyes hardened slightly as inclined his head in the direction of the door, taking another sip. He knew what was going on.

"Now? But what if Nanao…"

"We should head back, Matsumoto. They will be calling us if they need manpower for the new mission." His tone gentled a little, eyes softening.

"New mission? The reinforcement of Karakura?"

He downed the rest of the coffee in one gulp.

"The hostage rescue mission, Matsumoto. The hostage rescue mission."

* * *

I cannot apologize more for the long wait I have subjected my readers to. I can just hope that this chapter makes up for it.

Cheers,  
Tan


	14. Touch Down

The door guards at Kyouraku Industries would regret standing that close to the glass doors as said glass doors slammed open with a loud crash.

Before they blacked out, they would find themselves with face to face with an irate, fuming, smoking Shiba Kuukaku. (And a pane of glass.)

"OI, MS SECRETARY, YOU TELL KYOURAKU SHUNSUI THAT I AM COMING UP TO SEE HIM NOW AND THAT HE BETTER NOT BE FUCKING BUSY," she took in a deep breath.

"OR BUSY FUCKING."

The secretary sat there in shock as a whirlwind of black hair and jade green eyes stormed past her to the elevators, all thoughts of contacting the boss, or even any logical thoughts, blown clear out of her mind.

* * *

"Jyuu-chaaannn!" The room blinked collectively, turning their heads towards where one obviously distraught Kyouraku Shunsui was standing, dangling his headphones from the tips of his fingers, an arm's length away from his ear.

Hisagi, standing next to the man in question, would swear that Ukitake Jyuushiro crushed a pen cap in his right hand before taking in a deep breath and turning around with a smile on his face. (Of course, no one would believe the pen cap story, but then, what was that crumpled blue plastic thing on the table?)

The white-haired man took off his headphones, holding them away from his mouth. "Whatever it is, Shunsui, can it wait? I am…" he held his fingers a slight distance apart, fingers Hisagi would notice were trembling slightly, though in anger or just plain twitching he had no idea, "Just this close, this close, Shunsui, to getting reinforcements from Genryuusai-sensei, and I swear, if you screw this up, you can say goodbye to the only chance that will be getting bailed out of jail after this is all over."

"Right. My bad." Kyouraku chuckled sheepishly. "Carry on, then. Go work your mojo on…" A look silenced him, Ukitake turning around for a moment before returning to stare at the pad of paper in his hand, still conversing over the headphones.

The pink-clad man sighed, as he pouted and slouched in his armchair, a disappointed look on his face. "Kuu-chan hung up on me, and Nanao-chan is nowhere to be found… Am I destined to be deserted by the girls of this era?"

No one in the room deigned him a reply and a soft silence descended upon the room, only the soft murmurs of the communications team and the light clickety-clack of fingers on keyboards.

A light sigh as chocolate brown eyes surveyed the room, gaze raking over every single corner, before frowning slightly. The headphones in his hand were placed on the coffee table as Kyouraku Shunsui leant forward slightly, hands clasped together, eyes completely serious as he watched the room.

A rapid rat-ta-tat on the doorway, and the door creaked open to reveal a slightly scowling teenager.

"Oya, Hitsugaya-kun? Is that Ran-chan? Where were you?" The silly smile returned to his face, his eyes making the slower transition back to goofy, something unmissed by the teenage prodigy.

Hitsugaya narrowed his eyes as he cast a glance around the room, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"There's something I need to tell you, Kyouraku-san. In private."

* * *

Nanao exhaled. Wait. Huh? When had she lain down? When had she gone back to sleep? She had been at the coffee place, and then had been walking back to the office and then she…

Nanao sat up with a start, a hand fisting in the sheets. This was starting to turn into a scene right out of her worst nightmare. Briefly checking that she was dressed, and thankfully she was, she threw off the covers with a flourish. What had happened? (Why was she on a bed?) What was going on? This did not make sense.

"Huh." Her head jerked up in the direction of the window, at where a cyan haired man stared back at her. "So you're up. I'll go give him a ring then. Ya just sit tight here and wait till you're called." Nanao blinked as the man flashed her a wide, almost predatory grin before stepping away, hands in his pockets.

Right. So they were leaving her alone for the moment. Taking in her surroundings, Nanao was surprised to find that most of her belongings were neatly laid out on the table in the room. Most. The K40 was rather noticeably absent. Ah well. They were definitely not careless enough to leave her alone with a weapon.

Her second observation was that mostly everything was white. The walls were white, the ceiling was white, the light was white, the bed spread, the bed posts, the chair and the table. Everything was white, and that was rather disturbing in itself. What kind of person would like everything in shades of white, where even the slightest scuff of the shoe would leave a mark on the floor? (Her traitorous brain answered Kuchiki Byakuya or Ishida Ryuuken, but she was pretty sure it was neither of them.)

But there was no time to think about that. She had to, somehow, get out of here. Somehow. She was not supposed to be here. There was tons of paperwork that needed to be filed, and Kyouraku had to be arm-twisted into yet another meeting. Goodness gracious. What day was it? She better not have been out of it for more than a day. There was still tomorrow's work to finish, because there had been indications that all the action was going to begin soon.

(Nanao noticed that she was either not feeling distressed at her kidnapping, or was so distressed that she was already past the point of being distressed about herself and was now projecting that anxiety onto the work she had left uncompleted. She was not sure which one it was.)

Given more time, Nanao probably would have figured out a way to get out of the room that had only one door and a small window without using a key (which was obviously not available) or ruining her hairpins. (She liked them, thank you very much.)

Some person who she did not recognize came, unlocked the door and escorted her outside, not even bothering to slap handcuffs onto her wrists or make any movements that suggested towards restraining her. Nanao was not too sure whether to be annoyed that they thought so lightly of her or pleased that they were being so careless.

As it was however, her surroundings were plain and nondescript, nothing in any of the corridors seemed to indicate which part of the building she was in. Which would mean that attempting escape would not be a good idea. There was no knowing which way to run. And she might accidentally leave a trail of light gray markings on the pristine, almost hospital-sterilized white tiled floor, which would utterly defeat the purpose of attempting to run away.

The person, who Nanao mentally christened Unnamed Person One, eased open the door (which thankfully did not have a white doorknob) and gestured for her to enter. Nanao vaguely wondered why they were being so 'hospitable' if they truly were the opposing organization. (But who on earth could the people who had kidnapped her be, if they were not of the opposing organization? They had to be Aizen's men.)

The breath was sucked from her lungs as she entered the room. It was a large room, much larger than she would have expected to exist in a building such as this. (She had had the impression that this building consisted solely of tiny rooms, but this assumption was, obviously, false.) In fact, it looked to be the same size as the one they had their own meetings in, back at Kyouraku and Ukitake-san's organization.

The lack of the great number of armchairs and other furniture that she had unconsciously expected was apparent, making the room seem even larger than it truly was. It was, unsurprisingly, all white, and had Nanao had her wits about her, she would have mused that Aizen Sousuke seemed to have some sort of obsession, or even fetish with the color white.

But Nanao did not have her wits about her. For one simple, simple reason.

"Yo."

An all too familiar face grinned at her from the seat just next to that of the largest, middle one.

"Nice ta see ya up on yer feet, Ise-san."

Ichimaru Gin smirked at her from his position at the right hand of where the person who she assumed was Aizen Sousuke (but who was currently shrouded in some form of shadow probably due to the unusual lighting of the room) sat.

He waved at her, drinking in her shocked expression, infamous grin widening as he patted the seat next to him.

After all, it was not everyday that someone got to startle the normally unflappable Ise Nanao.

* * *

"So, what is it, Hitsugaya-kun? For you to call myself out into a private room like this? I don't suppose that it's a good time to come out of the closet, ne? I am afraid I have made it perfectly clear that I am interested only in the fairer gender…"

Kyouraku leant forward, a goofy grin on his face, pink jacket draped nonchalantly over the backrest of his armchair.

"With all due respect, cut the nonsense, Kyouraku-san." Hitsugaya's teal eyes were perfectly serious, his white brows scrunched up slightly. "Matsumoto and I went to look for Ise-san because Matsumoto was worried. We combed the area quite thoroughly, but she, I am afraid to say, is currently missing. As it is now, Matsumoto is still conducting her search, but I personally believe that she will not be found so easily, as this is Ise-san we are speaking about."

"Hm." Was the only response he got from the older man who leant back in his chair, looking down at the ground thoughtfully.

Seeing the visible lack of response, Hitsugaya sighed slightly before regaining his focus. "If you will indulge me, I believe that…"

"She's been abducted by Aizen?" Kyouraku raised his glance from the ground, a wry smile on his face, quite different from all the goofy grins that Hitsugaya had seen previously adorning his face. Serious eyes met his, and at once, Hitsugaya knew why Kyouraku-san was able to command such respect from those closest to him.

"Mahh, I thought so too. It's not like Nanao-chan to just up and disappear like that on her own." The happy features were back, Hitsugaya noted, and so was that flippant, nonchalant attitude. How did he do that? That incredibly rapid transition such that if he had blinked, he would have missed it?

"Hmph. Time to remind Aizen why leaving this old man alive was not such a good idea after all. Do me a favor, ya, Hitsugaya-kun?" Shunsui picked his jacket up, swinging it over his shoulders.

"Don't tell Jyuu-chan about this, 'kay?" He turned and winked at the teenager standing rather gobsmacked in the middle of the room.

A fist swung out from the doorway, clipping the side of Shunsui's head as the one person he did not want to see appeared in front of his eyes.

"Don't tell who about what?"

Hitsugaya's jaw dropped, which was quite a momentous occasion, as there were few things that truly shocked the prodigy.

A woman, a tall woman almost as busty as Matsumoto stood in the doorway. A shock of black hair and intense jade green eyes, she was about as loud as an explosion of red, which was saying a lot.

"Oi, oi, Kyouraku. What's this, eh? You're not telling your best friend and gay partner something?"

"I must profess, I am deeply hurt, Kuu-chan. You of all people know that Jyuu-chan and I are most certainly not…" It took only the time for an incredulous infuriated look before Shiba Kuukaku descended upon Kyouraku Shunsui and clocked him one right on the head with that almighty prosthetic arm of hers.

"Ow! Okay! Okay! I'm sorry! It slipped, I swear! It just slipped out like that! I mean, I so completely regret teaching you to chill out and relax and develop your own personality and not listen to the stuffy old men, and I'm sorrryyyyyy!!!"

Hitsugaya's eyebrows shot right up as he backed away to a corner (self-preservation instincts, self-preservation instincts) and watched the boss of their organization get beaten by a lady (or not quite a lady) who had just marched right into the room. (And from the looks of it, right into the building too.)

However, how he found himself squashed between Shiba Kuukaku and the car door half an hour later, Hitsugaya Toshiro, teenage prodigy, had no idea.


	15. Traces, Faces, Phases

"This is boring," whined Ichimaru Gin as he slumped lower in his chair, breaking the what must now be at least fifteen minute silence.

Nanao had merely been sipping her tea and watching Aizen, who had been doing the exact same thing. Both turned at once to look at Ichimaru, the latter's trademark grin now almost gone and a frown on his face as he twirled his teacup around on his hand.

"When are they coming, Aizen-taichou? I'm bored."

The teacup rolled from his wrist to his shoulder in a show of brilliant coordination before rolling back down and being caught by slim, long fingers which tapped loudly on the ceramic surface.

* * *

"You, my dear friend, are abso-friggin-lutely bonkers," he sighed as he flipped open the laptop, hooking the earpiece into his ear.

A chuckle on the other side and he sighed again. "You'd think a senior officer like yourself would tire of such missions, but noo, I turn around and you run off chasing missing people in my car."

"Kuchiki's car what? SHUNSUI! Honestly. Spare some thought for the situation, alright? If you called me just to waste my very precious time, then I will to hang up on you so that I can devote my full attention to the actual mission, alright?"

He sucked in a deep breath. "Now, which part of the building are you in? And don't you dare repeat what I think I heard you just say. You think I can't hear what you're mumbling under your… I AM NOT A MOTHERHEN!"

The plastic door rattled on its hinges and a light swear word was heard.

* * *

Kira Izuru ducked out of the men's washroom after casting a shocked glance back at the cubicle next to the one he had just occupied.

He was going to do his best to forget that he had just heard that. Yes, yes. It was not good to know that your boss was going crazy in the cubicle next to yours while doing goodness knows what with someone who was not even there.

Or maybe he had just been hallucinating, just like that time he had seen Ichimaru-taicho disappear out of the building and into a very familiar person's car.

Yes, he was definitely hallucinating.

It would do good for him to return back to the meeting room, sit down next to Hisagi-senpai and wait for his orders.

* * *

The new worksite was quite clean, Unohana Retsu noted, small confident footsteps bringing her around the white-sanded construction site, overshadowed by the skyscraper just next to it, in the middle of what seemed to be nowhere.

Her modest grey Lincoln was parked behind a stack of concrete blocks, good for shielding it from view as well as any possible attack, not that she would expect that there would be anything powerful enough to destroy a car.

The flashy red SUV carrying Zaraki Kenpachi whooshed on past her as Kusajishi Yachiru waved at Isane from the window with what looked like extremely colorful fingers.

They were right on time.

The initiation of the new recruits had not gone too well, from what she had heard. What was supposed to have been a routine mission had quickly turned into something a little less innocent, and the next thing she knew, Ukitake and Kyouraku-kun had politely requested her presence here.

Her presence as well as that of Zaraki Kenpachi, Kurotsuchi Mayuri, and Kuchiki Byakuya.

All for the new recruits.

Kurotsuchi-san's black minivan with dark-tinted windows bumped past along on the uneven terrain, and she could see the white Lamborghini Murcielago cruising to the left.

She rounded yet another mountain of gravel and white sand, and a red patch on the ground alerted her to the presence of someone else.

"Oh dear me. What do we have here." She knelt down to feel the boy's pulse, taking note of his almost glaring orange hair. A slight smile came to her face as she turned. "Isane, do you think you could fetch me the bandages? I think Kurosaki-san might require some."

* * *

"Ken-chan?"

Said man grunted in reply as he wrestled with the damn car to keep it straight on the incredibly bumpy ground.

"You sure it's okay to leave Baldy and Feathers behind?" Kusajishi Yachiru bounced around the interior of the SUV, colored toys flying around and constantly obscuring the rear mirror. "They won't miss you, Ken-chan?"

"'S fine, Yachiru. 'Sides, the old man recommended that we leave them behind, 'cos they ain't gonna do any fightin' when I'm around, right?"

Yachiru pouted slightly, looking only a little less hesitant. "But… it's Baldy and Feathers…"

"They'll be fine, Yachiru. They're old enough to take care of themselves. And ya know Ikkaku will throw a fit if he knew ya worried about him, right?"

A small, silent pause as Yachiru pondered his words, before a tiny pair of hands flung themselves around his neck and a small body collided against his chest a little too forcefully, slightly winding him though he'd never admit it. "Yah! Ken-chan's the best!"

"Hn." Kenpachi resisted the urge to cuddle Yachiru, instead scowling harder at the white and rather unforgivingly tall sand dunes which were causing his _Sports_ _Utility_ Vehicle quite a bit of trouble.

Yachiru lapsed into silence as the car stopped rocking a little and they passed by what seemed to be the crazy scary healer and her subordinate.

Man, that woman was freakily creepily scary. Kind of like a really, really dangerous mother, actually.

* * *

It had been less than a month ago that he had been perched nervously by Yachiru's bedside, waiting for her to get better from that goddamn blast.

"Ken-chan?" Yachiru murmured groggily from the bed, pink hair contrasting with the plain whiteness of the sheets, blanket and pillow.

He nearly jumped to his feet and laughed.

Instead, he blinked rather pitifully, stretching out a large hand to gently, hesitantly place over her much smaller one, almost afraid that an exuberant greeting would hurt her.

A small smile came to her face as she giggled weakly, turning slightly and falling back asleep.

He scowled as he sat back down, lapsing a little into not-so-distant memories.

The first time Yachiru had stirred, he had actually leapt up and tried to pick her up and hug her because by the gods she had him so worried and angry he thought he would simply explode from all the tension.

A cold something against his back and a steelier tone wrapped in a soft calming voice had stopped him, just millimeters away from hugging Yachiru to an inch of her life.

Unohana Retsu, graceful healer extraordinaire by day and creepy motherhen by night swept past him, bringing with her a whole host of silent white-clad subordinates.

Half of whom somehow managed to shoo and guide him out of the room, plonk him down on the cold plastic bench outside and give him strict orders to go and get food and get changed.

Which he promptly ignored.

He had sat outside for what seemed like half an eternity before the head honcho herself came out of the room, a delicate (delicately sinister, he swore) smile on her face, proclaiming that "Yachiru-chan will be just fine."

And that, "However, should you find the need to enthusiastically attempt once more to glomp her within an inch of her life, be prepared that I can and will murder you in your sleep."

And also, "We have put in much effort to ensure Yachiru-chan's speedy recovery to excellent health, so don't. you. dare. impede the process, Zaraki Kenpachi."

And the last sentence, "You should go get changed, take a meal and have some rest. Yachiru-chan will be a little groggy from the medicines, and will most likely only awake again tomorrow."

He had ignored her just as he had ignored her subordinates, but a firm grip on his shoulder and he found himself flying into the opposite wall, creating a surprisingly soft thud. (Which he felt through all twenty four of his vertebrae, his sacrum and his coccyx all at once.)

"Go rest. Now."

He had gone, ribs aching and elbow stinging, to change, shower and eat.

Of course, Yachiru had recovered just as the she-demon had said she would, and was perkier and happier than she had been for much of the previous month, most of which she had spent unconscious. (And he had spent out of the organization looking for revenge.)

He had gotten her discharged from the medical facility as quickly as he could possibly manage, because that woman crept him out of his skin, even though Yachiru really seemed to love her.

But never mind that.

He now lived in eternal fear of Unohana Retsu.

Oh sure, he would trust her with any wounds and illnesses and stuff like that, but trust was a heck load different from whether he feared her or not. And besides, he liked to think that if he ever was injured enough to need treatment, he would hopefully be unconscious.

Fear was a bit of an understatement.

It was more like a mixture of fear, admiration, awe and respect that he felt towards the woman who was just about slightly taller than two-thirds his height.

The exact same feelings as the rest of the world and the known universe had for her.

Scary.

_

* * *

_

Nope, Zaraki Kenpachi thought to himself. Best not to think about it anymore.

What was over was over, and he really needed to think of something else. Something that would erase that darned inferiority complex he had somehow developed around that woman.

He needed to think of someone he could make fun of.

Preferably someone shorter, girlier and snobbier.

He smirked to himself, though it looked more like a bloodthirsty sneer as he contemplated the highly amusing idea of Kuchiki's Lamborghini stuck in a sand dune.

Serve him right, that proud… thing.

Besides, if _he_ had that kind of cash, (and if Yachiru was ten years older) he wouldn't get a Lamborghini, oh no.

There were faster cars out there, and a Zonda was practically screaming his name.

Take that, Kuchiki.

* * *

Nanao was well and truly bored now. She had actually contemplated all seventy-two possible scenarios that could happen if she attempted to escape, and every single one of them involved someone dying or getting severely injured.

Someone on her side, that was.

She had promptly decided to wait for rescue as any normal damsel in distress would, except that she was balancing the budget for next year in her head and doing some logistics planning at the same time.

So after what was probably about two hours of sitting around and taking tiny sips at what was truly delicious tea, she found herself with nothing left to do. The budget was balanced, all the different costs were accounted for, and the logistics, if carried out that way, would be perfectly guarded and moved.

She was dreadfully, dreadfully bored, though probably not as bored as Ichimaru looked.

He was whistling away as he rolled his cylindrical teacup from one shoulder to another. The man who appeared to be Aizen Sousuke was unflappable as usual, calmly sipping his tea and staring alternately at Ichimaru and her.

Now, Nanao was no genius, but she could model a couple of physics problems in her head. The first problem involved the rotation of the teacup around a round table, which was then extended to the elliptical table, and…

She was almost beginning to wish that something, anything was happening. By the gods, this was a terrible method of torture or extracting of information. Please, let something happen, let something happen, let something happen!

Nothing did, and after fifteen minutes of attempting to calculate the coefficient of kinetic friction of the stone surface [in a very crude manner] by sliding her cup over it, her shoulders slumped slightly in mild defeat.

[Her posture was no longer as perfect as it had been about three hours ago.]

She sighed. Aizen smirked and sipped his tea. Ichimaru pretended not to notice. This was incredibly boring…

Ooh, was that a crash in the distance?

The teacup stopped rolling on Ichimaru's sleeves, instead coming to a rest on the hollow of his shoulder, which he chest-bumped up and into his hands. Quicker than Nanao had ever seen the man move, he rose and was at the door, turning around and grinning to Aizen.

"I'll go check it out, ya, Aizen-taicho?"

Aizen nodded and inwardly, Nanao groaned.

Now she was stuck in a room with only a completely boring person to look at.

At least Ichimaru had been remotely interesting.

She slumped forward to lean her elbows on the table in what she knew was terrible posture.

* * *

Rangiku twiddled her thumbs as she waited for Toushiro to return to the office. He did not normally take more than half an hour for any breaks, not even lunch, not even to visit poor Hinamori who was hospitalized for trying to commit suicide after that horrible Aizen incident that had started all this.

The poor girl was much better now, but that bastard Aizen had really done a pretty job with her, imprinting so deeply that even today, she twitched when a reference was made to him or his corporation. It would take a long while for Momo to return back to normal, but she would never be able to actively and properly participate in the organization's work again.

But that was not the point. The point was that Toushiro was currently missing, and that she could not find Nanao either.

Little Boy Wonder had requested that she take a maximum of fifteen more minutes to search for Nanao, after which she "better get back to the office because we have a lot of work to do, Matsumoto".

So she had done exactly that, but poor Toushiro looked so stressed lately that she just had to help him out a little. Nanao was a big girl and could take care of herself. She'd find her way back eventually.

But where was Toushiro?

* * *

"All systems clear," Jyuushiro's voice echoed out of their earpieces, "You're ready to roll."

Shiba Kaien beamed at Hitsugaya over his sister who also looked a little too happy for the occasion.

Heck, even Kyouraku-san was grinning like a madman as well.

For the life of him, Toushiro could not figure out why. It made no sense. This was a hostage rescue mission carried out in absolute secrecy such that no one should ever need to know that they were here...

An explosion rocked the room that Kyouraku-san had just closed the door on, just to their left. Toushiro's jaw dropped as Shiba Kuukaku grinned maniacally.

Had they really just detonated a pack of TNT in the previous room to draw attention towards themselves so that someone, preferably him, could sneak past the guards [and failing that, knock them out or kill them] to save Nanao-san from the evil clutches of Aizen Sousuke?

Oh dear god, deliver him from this all.

What had he done to deserve such treatment?

[And why had he agreed in the first place?]

The Pancor Jackhammers loaded themselves as Kyouraku-san headed left at the first turn.

Kuukaku whipped out a flamethrower, much to Toushiro's horror as she turned right at the next turn.

Kaien waved him a jaunty goodbye as he sauntered down the next left turn.

Which left him to head down the right turn that was left.

His teeth closed over the hilt of a kunai as he gently tugged the rope dart out of his back pocket.

Time to roll.

[Without slipping.]

He sniggered inwardly at the extremely nerdy physics joke before catching himself hurriedly. He was supposed to have outgrown that phase three years ago.

Focus, Toushiro. Focus.


End file.
